Incident on Isla Tormenta
by smashhog
Summary: A plane crashes on an island. A corporation wants to keep the island a secret. A group of survivors must band together and face the terrors of the island. Everything happens for a reason. Everything happens on the island that time forgot. Ch. VI fixed.
1. Part I:Prologue: Sanchez and the Shadows

I do not own _Jurassic Park_, the movie, and book. Both belong to the late Michael Crichton, God rest his soul.

**Incident on Isla Tormenta**

**Part One**

**Prologue: Sanchez and the Shadows**

The night was still. The wind blew carelessly and rhythmically, the air seemed empty amongst the stars in the sky. The moon bathed all in a dull, incandescent glow. The glow covered the basin of a large valley, exposing every tree and bush in the quiet haven. A cricket chirped, a leaf dropped. Everything was in the right place.

A silhouette of a small shack, nestled neatly between two Royal Poinciana, seemed nearly out of place in the valley. The house was small, nearly a hut in size, and had grey paint peeling with the weight of age. The house cast a shadow grappling with dark claws across the little valley, the moon shining luminously behind it. All was quiet as the wind blew the tall grass back and forth.

Suddenly, from the far north end of the valley, movement aroused on the tree line separating the vast jungle from the valley. A snarl shattered the silence and a shadow shot out from the cover of the trees. It raced towards the house with a blistering pace, soon slowing down to a stop in front of the grey building. Its head, silhouetted by the light, raised upwards and sniffed the air. And with a slight snap of the head, it moved almost liquidly towards the door of the house.

Inside the darkness of the house, a boy slept soundly in his bed. Sanchez was five and was considered to have an "overactive imagination". He laid on his side in the warm room, dreaming up vast worlds as well as new ideas for stories to tell his parents. The parents slept soundly in the room next to his, the husband, Jose Ricardo, with his arm around the wife, Janis. In their cramped room was a painting of the great tiger with glaring eyes of orange hung above their bed. Jose looked to this as a symbolic image of the hunter. He also looked at it as a collection of his fears, so that every time he looked to it, the fears would vanish from his mind.

Sanchez moved around a little in his sleep. A line of sweat covered his brows as the air tightened in his room. Suddenly his eyes popped open and he began breathing in short hard gasps. Another nightmare… He balled his hands into little fists and rubbed his eyes. He could hear the rustling of the wind outside, the soft swaying of the grass, and the chirping of the crickets. Everything seemed normal until a snap from outside killed the crickets. The wind stopped howling and the grass altogether ceased to blow. The world became as nightmarish as Sanchez's dream in that split moment.

Sanchez took his fists off of his eyes and stared round the room. Familiar figures became sinister and opaque. His fear crawled up his throat like a fly from a dead frog and released itself as a whimper. There was another snap, but this time it sounded like the popping of the knuckles. Sanchez suddenly needed to go to the bathroom immediately. But in order to go to the bathroom, he had to rise from his bedroom sanctuary. And out into the nightmare…

Sanchez whimpered again like a sad dog and looked from his bed to the door leading into the hall. It was almost like the outside was calling to him, coaxing him to discover whatever was out there. He turned a little in his bed and darted his eyes across the room. He could've sworn he saw something near his closet, a monster if nothing. By this point Sanchez was about to bolt forth when suddenly lightening flashed from outside, exposing the "monster" in a light beam. It was just the old cat, Perda, chasing some bug.

Sanchez sighed and for a split second he felt like going back to sleep. But suddenly the steady creak of a door opening plunged him deeper into anxiety. His eyes shot to the bedroom door and froze there. Outside, he could hear the steady _thump _of feet against the ground. Sanchez got up slightly and threw his legs over his bed. Maybe it was just his parents coming to check on him. He jumped off of his bed and tip toed to the door, trying to be as quiet as he could possibly be. And very gently he morphed his ear with the wooden door to listen to all that was outside. The footsteps seemed to be getting louder as whatever was in the house crept closer. And faintly, just barely, the sound of heavy breathing muffled the footstep…

There was a bang and a hiss as Perda knocked over a stack of books by Sanchez's closet. Sanchez jumped and the footsteps stopped. The only sound that fluttered through the air was the rhythmic breathing of whatever anomaly was beyond the door. Sanchez put his hand over his mouth to stop his own breathing. Whatever was outside was now directly in front of Sanchez's door. Sanchez looked down to see its abnormal shadow creeping through the space under the door. Sweat poured from hid forehead. His heart skipped a beat. He froze in the shadow.

Suddenly the door flung open and there, in the doorway, stood the dark figure of his father. "Sanchez, my son? Are you alright?" his voice warmed Sanchez's body. Jose stood there for a moment and then took a step towards his son. "What happened? Are you alright?" Sanchez suddenly broke down into tears and flung himself into his father's arms. "The shadows, and the…"

"It is alright," his father assured him, "I'm sure that you just had a nightmare."

"It was not! The footsteps and the breathing!"

"Are you sure that those were not mine, son?"

"No, they were big like this," Sanchez made a heavy stop with his foot and then another until Jose grabbed him. "Hush now!" he scolded, "Your mother is resting. She is having a difficult time with the baby."

"Father?" Sanchez's tone took a different route, now more serious than afraid, "Are you afraid."

"Afraid? Why would I be afraid?"

"Because I am. I am afraid of the baby."

"Now, now," Jose sat down beside his son on the bed, "the baby is juts another human being. There is nothing to be afraid of."

"I am afraid that you will stop loving me when it comes." Sanchez began to tear up. Jose sighed and put a hand on his son's shoulder. "There is a time," he said, "when we must all face our fears. When change happens, there is nothing you can do to stop it. You must go along with it like a raft caught in the river. Do you understand?"

"I guess so," Sanchez said rubbing his eyes. Jose smiled. "Good. I'm going back to bed now, will you be alright?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Sanchez pulled the covers back up to his eyes and laid down. Jose got up and walked to the door. "Father?" He stopped right as he was exiting and turned around. "Yes son?"

"I love you."

"I love you too." Sanchez smiled and closed his eyes as his father turned off the lights and exited the room, making sure to close the door behind him. Jose walked down the hallway towards his bedroom door, but stopped midway when he heard something knock against the door. He turned around and stared down the dark hallway, and began walking towards the old wooden door that led outside of the house. There was another knock and then, as Jose got closer, the faint sound of breathing could be heard. He made it to the door and pressed one ear to it to listen for anymore noises. Suddenly the door was pushed upon from the outside, causing Jose to jump back several feet. His heart was pounding, but he knew what he must do. He wrapped his shaking hand around the cold doorknob and opened the old wooden door. The slow creek of the hinges scratched at his mind, and the darkness of the night filled his eyes. The warm air from outside blew in, and out in front of Jose stood nothing. He sighed with relief and was about to close the door when something thudded against the ground in front of him. In the darkness he could see a tall, menacing figure just standing there, staring him down. And suddenly, with blaring speed, it lunged forward and knocked Jose to the ground. For a moment he was dazed. Then he felt a sharp sensation in his lower ribcage. He put his hand to his chest to find a warm, flowing liquid and then he felt the wet coating of something slippery. He grabbed it and it slipped through his hands, plopping onto the floor. Then he realized the cold truth that his organs were falling out of him. _Dear God… _

He couldn't scream, nor could he move, as another sharp pain wrapped around his neck and snapped it like a twig. The door slammed and Janis cried from her room, "Rick?" The intruder locked in on this sound and shot down the hall, flinging itself onto Janis's door and falling into her room. Her ear splitting cry filled the house as she was torn apart just like her husband. The thing then knocked over the lamp stand in the room and dug into its prey. The sounds broke into Sanchez's room, causing him to go into hysterics. He shook all over and tried his best not to cry. The whole house shook with commotion until the creature suddenly stopped its gorging and flew outside an opened window. The house stood as it was when the creature entered, silent and still. The darkness crept back into the rooms and Sanchez whimpered once again. Perda meowed and jumped onto him, but he did not stir. Outside of his room laid the body of his father, and outside the house stood the silhouettes of a group of men. One took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it, filling his little space with light. They had observed the events that had taken place that night on a little hill far away from the house. They now watched the creature slowly grace its way across the valley and back into the jungle. "What do we do now?" asked one of the men by the cigarette smoking man.

"Burn the house. Make it look like it was a freak fire accident. If any bodies remain dispose of them into the ocean. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir!" The man saluted and he called forth four other men and together they marched down towards the house. The cigarette smoking man's eyes never left the house, even when the men started to burn it down. From far away the distant rumbling of a storm sent a flash of light across the valley. And inside of the house Sanchez's face was lit up by the lightening. A tear rolled down his face as the flames bit at his bedroom and eventually broke in.


	2. Chapter I: That God Forsaken Place

**Chapter One: That God Forsaken Place **

_I'll say this for sure: After we boarded that plane, our lives were left on that God forsaken place. _

***

A warm breeze swept across his face, tickling his nose. The sun cooked him like a roast in the oven. The ground beneath him, soft and grainy, scratched at exposed skin. His joints began to move, and then his eyes. He groaned, coughed a little, and the green eyes shot open. He gasped for air, throwing his flimsy arms into the air as if something was there to grab on to, only to let them fall back down to his side. He coughed uncontrollably now, as the taste of smoke flooded his gaping mouth. The sun blinded him, but only for a moment. After regaining vision, he saw images. After sight he heard the sounds, of screaming, of burning, of running, of the ocean churning. After sound he felt the Earth beneath him, loose and grainy, as sand fell through his fingers. He began to move his legs, and found that his jeans had ripped. Where the rip was on his leg was also the location of some sort of red substance. He moved his hand to his leg and touched the warm liquid, and then the gash in his leg. Someone ran by him and then back to him, asking him something. The audible words didn't reach his ears, until the person shook them into him.

"Are you okay sir?!" the man screamed in his ear. He nodded slowly, but unsurely, and began to rise up.

"You have to get away from the crash!" the man ordered. He looked at the man closer, and found that the man had a beard. _What funny things you think of in a dream_. He nodded and began to walk forward, ignoring the pain in his leg. The man began to walk away, but turned around at the last moment.

"Hey!" he called back, "what's your name?" He stopped and turned his head towards the man.

"Sam," he answered distantly. The man rushed away, probably to tend to others on the ground, and Sam began to walk again. Suddenly a thought flashed through his mind and he went into a complete panic. He began to look frantically around for something, or someone, and rushed towards a man lying face down in the sand. Sam rolled the man over, but didn't find what he was looking for. The man was older, with a cut across his face. The man wasn't dead, but out cold, meaning that Sam couldn't leave him there. So he attempted to hoist the man up and over his shoulder, when a voice called from somewhere behind him, "Sam!"

Sam spun around to find a red haired girl pointing upwards at something. Sam looked up and realized just exactly where he was. Above him, dangling from a lone sheet of metal, swayed part of the airplane wing. Another flash of reality. They had crashed. They had crashed, and now part of the plane was merely seconds away from collapsing right on top of him. A surge of adrenalin kicked in, and Sam, with the man slung over his shoulder, ran as fast as he could away from the wing. There was a snapping noise, more screams, and then fire. The wing had snapped off and crashed directly where they were he was stammering just seconds before.

Sam crumpled on the edge of the crash site. The man fell off of his shoulder and thudded on the sand ahead of him. The pain in Sam's leg had seemed to numb, which, in Sam's experience, wasn't a good sign. He groaned in pain and tried to grab a hold of the leg, but every time he did a stinging sensation rushed through every nerve in his body. He laid back and stared up at the blue sky. Some smoke floated above him, and a bird flew even farther above that. And above that was where he needed to be, safe, in the air, and not on some beach with an unattended laceration across his shin.

Several people rushed over from somewhere away from the crash site to help up Sam and the man. Sam felt a hand grab his arm, and looked up to meet with the eyes of the red haired girl.

"Are you okay?" she asked frantically.

"Wha-?" Sam's eyes darted around again as he slipped into a dizzy state.

"Sam? Sam?! Look at me," the red haired girl shook his arm. Sam snapped his head at her and came back to reality.

"Kelsey? Where's Eric?" Sam began to get up on his good leg when Kelsey stopped him.

"You need to relax Sam," she told him, "You're hurt."

"No, I've got to find Eric," he hadn't realized it, but he had risen to both legs now. The pain had subsided, for the moment. Sam moved his attention to the crash site and his heart sank. Before him was something he'd imagine when he thought of Hell: fire had broken out, and it seemed like a couple of bodies were on fire. People were still frantically trying to escape from the chaotic storm of metal and flames, and the cries and screams dug into Sam's brain like worms.

Sam noticed suddenly some movement amongst the trees near him. His eyes shot over in the direction of the movement and focused on a lone form emerging from the foliage. Kelsey's hand went to her mouth and she whispered, "Eric…" Sam rushed forward and met the dumbfounded Eric at the tree line. Eric looked as if he'd been beat with a baseball bat; bruises covered his arms and face, and there was a tear in his shirt where blood had stained the fabric. His brown eyes stared at the destruction in a dreamy gaze, and slowly shifted over to his friend now standing by his side.

"Eric? Eric, are you okay? Where were you? Are you okay?" the questions flooded from Sam's mouth. Eric attempted to speak something, but the words never left his mouth. His legs gave out and he fell into Sam's arms. Kelsey approached them and Sam put a hand to Eric's nostrils.

"He's out cold," Sam said, "Let's get him away from the crash."

"Right," Kelsey added and went on the other side of Eric. Together, her and Sam hoisted the floppy body up by the shoulders and began walking towards the group of people gathered away from the plane. Once there, they laid Eric's body down next to the man Sam had saved, and others who were unconscious or injured. Someone rushed over to Eric's body and placed a hand to his head.

"Is he breathing?" the man asked.

"Yeah," Sam answered, "He's just unconscious."

"Good," the man said as he stood up, "If he does anything, _anything _at all, come get me."

"And what's your name?" Kelsey asked.

"David, David Hughes," the man said shaking her hand, "And I'd love to know yours, but there's about twenty others who need help and only one doctor. Busy day." And he was off, racing over to tend to some other survivor's needs. Sam looked back down at Eric and then upwards to see all of the survivors gathered there. They all seemed to be staring at the carnage that was once their ride home, and soon Sam had turned as well. The fire had died down a bit, but as the sun went down it seemed to be brighter than the sun. The smoke billowed upwards and seemed to morph into the dark skies above. Sam then knew that they'd be rescued, someone had to see them. The plane had a black box, he knew, so it shouldn't be long before they'd have rescue helicopters scouring the whole ocean for their unfortunate airliner. They'd be rescued, they just have to wait. _And judging by the looks of things, these people's patience might not last long._

And there was silence. Minus the crackling of flames, and the occasional cough, silence. Everyone stood there watching the same scene, thinking the same thing, and maybe wondering what they would have to eat. But the one thing that stayed the same was that they had no Earthly idea where they were, and that ate at them. It tore at them; made them feel like anything could happen and they'd have nothing to do to stop it. Kelsey leaned her head against Sam's shoulder, and Sam placed an arm around her. The sun dipped below the horizon. The flames burned the remains of the outside world.

***

Later on that night, people had gathered around small fires set up along the beach. David Hughes finished tending to the last of the injured and went to his own fire. He began to take off his shirt when a voice sounded from behind him, "Excuse me," the voice was cool and sweet, "Can you help me?" David spun around and came face to face with a brown haired woman in her mid-twenties. She wore very ripped jeans, and a stained white tank top. Her eyes were dirt brown, though shined with a beauty too deep to dirty. Her hair was brown as well, and rolled down her neck and past her shoulders.

"What do you need?" David asked, putting his shirt back on.

"Can you help me find my luggage?" she asked, getting closer.

"Your luggage? Well it's probably burned up by now."

"No, the fuselage didn't burn all the way. Maybe there's a chance it's still there." David looked over to the still burning remains of the airplane. He then looked back at the woman.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Diana," she answered, "And yours?"

"David, David Hughes. And I'll help you find your things."

"Thank you David," Diana smiled and the two left the comfort of the fire.

***

"God dammit!" Gregory Fairbanks hissed as the flames from his fire licked his hands. He dropped the stick that had his wet shirt wrapped around it onto the sand. He had been attempting to dry it off so that he wouldn't be cold in the night, but every time he tried he'd get too close to the flames and dropped the stick.

_I swear, the first thing I'm going to do when I get off out of here is buy a water-proof shirt, so this kind of shit doesn't happen. _He picked up the stick and, groaning, held the wet load over the hot flames once again. Suddenly a voice from behind caused him to drop the stick, "Need some help there, brother?" He turned his head to see a young man standing there with a shirt in his hands. He tossed the shirt to Greg, who caught it in his hand. The shirt was dry, and looked to be near his size.

"Where did you get this?" Greg asked gruffly.

"Found it, on the beach. Spread the love, and thank the Mother Mary that we're still alive."

"Thank the…Well anyways, thank you." Greg said and turned away from the young man, pulling the shirt over his head.

"Name's Elijah by the way," the young man said turning away. Greg huffed and answered, "Name's Greg, that's all."

***

The duo finally reached the fuselage after weaving their way through the crowd of people and trekking past the still burning pieces of the plane. Surprisingly the fuselage hadn't been engulfed in the flames, but it laid there torn open and nearly destroyed from the impact. There was a pungent smell in the air, which caused them both to place a hand to their mouths.

"What is that?" Diana said nearly gagging.

"That is the rest of Flight 513," David answered. He looked over to her and her to him.

"Still want to do this?" he asked her. Diana looked forward at the ripped open fuselage and nodded. "Alright," David added, "Let's go."

They climbed into the cabin through a large hole in the side. David withdrew from his pocket a keychain, and on this a tiny flashlight. He pressed a button and a white light shined in front of them. The inside of the fuselage was a wreck, with luggage and seats thrown everywhere. Several bodies still sat in their seats, either impaled by some object or they had just died. Diana went first, oddly enough, and walked down the lone aisle. David followed closely and shined the light at her feet. Suddenly he told her to stop and pointed to a wire dangling freely from the ceiling. The wire still had electricity flowing through it, hinting from the random sparks flying from its end. Diana carefully avoided this and thanked David for pointing it out.

Finally they came to a stop near the middle of the cabin. Diana tiptoed to open the cubby above the empty seat and pulled out a large suitcase. She turned to David and said, "Alright, let's go."

"Not yet," he spoke and went a ways past her.

"Where are you going?" she asked, following him now. He didn't answer, but once they had reached the back of the plane he said, "Back on the beach, I had nothing to use to clean wounds. I just tore off pieces of clothing and wrapped the cuts in that. But now," he reached for something in a drawer next to the bathroom and pulled out a medical kit, "I can help them." He smiled and signaled to leave the cabin. They reached the front and Diana asked, "Don't you want to get your stuff?"

"All I want to do right now," David said, "is get out of here before I lose my stomach."

"Same here," Diana added and the two left the fuselage. On their way back to camp, Diana asks, "How many of us do you think survived?"

"Don't know," David said looking at each individual fire, "Forty, fifty; a lot, I'm for certain."

"It's a miracle, you know, that we're alive." David chuckled.

"I don't believe in miracles," he said smiling. Suddenly a woman walked in between their path, stopping them for a moment.

"Hello!" she said with a smile, "I'm taking down names, you know? And who might you two be?" The appearance of this blonde haired woman startled the duo for a moment, but Diana answered, "I'm Diana Ross, and this is David Hughes. And who might you be?"

"My name's Samantha, nice to meet you! Well I better be off, got to find more names-."

"Wait, why don't you just get the manifest from the plane?" David asked, "The fuselage is intact, we just came from there."

"Oh! That'd be a lot easier, thanks," Samantha smiled and made her way past David and Diana. Diana laughed and said, "You didn't tell her about the smell?"

"Nah, she can handle it," David smiled.

***

Sam gazed deep into the flames. His eyes were alive with dancing embers, but his face looked cold and dead. Eric lay to the right of him, his body adjacent to the fire, but just far away enough to not be burned. He was still in a deep sleep, his body shivered every time he breathed. Kelsey sat next to Sam, gazing into the fire as well, and occasionally looking back at the many other fires near them.

Sam, in all his nineteen years of life, had never imagined something of this magnitude could ever happen to him. He wondered if they were on national news, or, maybe even world news. He wondered if mom and dad knew he was gone, or if everyone else back home knew. He wondered if they'd ever even get off of this God forsaken place.

"Hey there," the voice was abrupt and immediately burst Sam's thought bubble, "How's everyone holding up over here?" The man was skinny, with wide blue eyes, and shaggy black hair. His voice was soft and soothing, as if he was some sort of camp councilor. His eyes darted from Sam to Kelsey and then to Eric.

"We're doing fine, thanks," Kelsey's voice was assuring.

"Is he okay?" the man pointed to Eric's body.

"Yeah, he's fine too," Sam answered, "And you are?"

"Oh, I'm Clark," his handshake was warm, "I'm collecting names, who might you all be?"

"I'm Kelsey, that's Sam and that's Eric," she lifted her thumb in the direction of the body.

"Alright," Clark pulled out a pen and wrote on his hand, "Gotcha, thanks a lot, sleep well."

"You too man," Sam added and Clark was off. Sam looked at Kelsey and said, "Must be making a manifest."

"Wasn't there one in the plane?" Kelsey asked.

"Yeah, but it's probably burned up by now."

"But I just saw that doctor coming back from the crash site with some luggage, maybe everything didn't burn up."

"Maybe, I'll have to check it out later," Sam looked off towards the ocean and noticed something along the waterline. He began to rise, and said to Kelsey, "I'll be back in a minute."

"Where are you going?"

"There's someone I need to talk to."

"Alright Sam." He left the warm glow of his fire and meandered his way through the other ones. He passed by a woman with a man's head resting in her lap, the man weeping softly. He passed a large group of loners gathered around one large fire. He passed two Hispanic men arguing over something, yelling out speedy Spanish that Sam could barely even follow. But what caught his eye was the medical need area, where many bodies lay unconscious or injured. Upon arrival to this area, a single body caught Sam's eye. A girl lay facing upward, with olive skin and long brown hair. Her features entranced Sam, but her age was hard to tell. She seemed to have the body of a woman in her early thirties, late twenties, but the face of a young woman. He observed her for a moment, until another man appeared next to him.

"Excuse me," he said and moved towards the brown haired girl.

"Oh, sorry, did you know her?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, she was sitting next to me," the man said, "I was just checking up on her."

"Oh alright," Sam said and began to move away, but he turned at the last moment.

"Hey, what's your name?"

"Chris, the names Chris," the young man answered. He had to be right around Sam's age.

"Alright Chris, nice to meet you. I'm Sam, and if you need anything, my fires over there." Sam pointed over to his little fire near the jungle.

"Alright, thanks," Chris said, still staring at the brown haired girl. Sam felt a little uncomfortable and left the scene. _Geez, way to make things awkward._ Sam shook his head and continued on to the waterline. He finally could make out the image that sat away from the fires, her silhouette black against the white moon. Sam was silent as he approached her, but even then she sensed his presence.

"He's just ten years old, you know," she said in a daze, "He's just ten."

"I'm sure he's fine," Sam reached the woman and sat down next to her. Her eyes were still wet from crying, the tears clung in little balls to her eyelashes. Her green eyes were lit by the moon, her blonde hair tied back in a messy ponytail. Sam stared out at the ocean as well, and noticed, on the horizon, several flashes of lightening.

"I told him everything would be fine," she mumbled, "that we'd be together once we got off the…"

"Was he in the front section?" Sam asked. The woman nodded slowly. Sam had nearly forgot that the plane had split somewhere near the front section, he saw only part of the fuselage on the beach. He placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her to look his way.

"I'm sure that he's fine," Sam assured her, "There's been talk that the front section might still be intact."

"Oh, I know he's okay. He's just," she sniffled, "So young." Sam looked away for a moment, and then back to the woman.

"I never got your name," he asked.

"What?"

"I never got your name, in the airport."

"It's Cassandra," she took a hand and wiped away a tear, "but my friends call me Cassie."

"Well Cassie, I'm going to get a search party together and we're going to find your boy, okay?" Cassie smiled and wiped another tear from her eye.

"Thank you," she said, "I-I never got your name?"

"My name's Sam Hawkins," Sam said with a smile, "And I'll find your son Cassie."

The stars were all out that night.

***

Samantha arrived at her fire, with Clark waiting patiently for her. His hands were black from all the names scrawled on them, and he gave the happiest of looks to her.

"Look!" he said and held out his hands, "I got all the names like you said!" Samantha looked at his hands and laughed. She then presented the manifest to him and Clark's smile turned into a frown.

"You mean I did all that work," he laughed, "for nothing?!"

"Hey, at least you didn't have to go into the smelly pit of death we used to call a plane."

"Oh," he took the manifest from her hands, "Right." She smiled and sat down next to him. Clark began to flip through the pages of the manifest, and stopped on one name. His facial expression became dramatically more serious, and Samantha noticed this at once.

"What is it?" she asked, moving closer to him.

"There's no way," he whispered, and pointed to the name. Samantha looked at it, and then asked, "What's so important about that?"

"Do you know who this is? That's Tim Murphy, John Hammond's grandson!"

***

In the medical attention area, a man breathed heavily in his sleep. The man's brown hair was slicked back neatly behind his ears, and his eyes rolled around furiously behind his eyelids. And, with a deafening scream, Timothy Murphy woke up from a terrifying nightmare and was plunged into another.


	3. Chapter II: Searching

**Chapter Two: Searching **

_Sam Hawkins woke up to the raucous roar of the hotel's alarm clock. He was right in the middle of a dream, just as it was getting good. Then good old Mr. Sandman had to take his lunch break and leave Sam annoyed and unsatisfied. He outstretched a floppy hand out towards the source of the buzzing, hit once, missed. Hit again, missed. Hit again, third time's the charm. He withdrew his hand and rolled over on his back to stare up at the ceiling. He went into one of those dazes where he began counting all the lines and cracks on the face of the ceiling, and even tried to slow the fan blades down with his mind. His daze ended abruptly when Eric stuck his frizzy brown head into the picture and said, "You're awake?" _

***

Sam woke for a second time in the night to the sound of voices. He opened his eyes slowly, hoping to find something other than the white sands of the beach, maybe even the warm comfort of the plane. But no, there it was in all its beauty: the beach. He took both hands and rubbed his eyes, forgetting about the sand that clung to his skin. He quickly put his hands back down to the sand and shook his head. He looked around the camp to find a small group of people standing by the medical area. Amongst them stood the doctor, David, his friend and that Chris guy he met last night. He turned his head to face the left of him, where Kelsey still lay, lost in a dream. And he looked behind him to find Eric still in a deep sleep. He then rose slowly, taking care not to wake either of them, and began walking towards the crowd.

As he got closer to the group, random bits of their conversation began to reach his ears.

"She was here last night?"

"Where the hell do you think she went?"

"Where? I'm wanting to know _why _she left."

"Maybe it has to do with that Tim guy screaming last night."

"Boy was that loud, heck of a yell that guy has-."

"What's going on?" Sam butted head first into the conversation. The group looked at him dumbfounded for a moment, and then David informed him, "One of the survivors has gone missing?"

"Who?" Sam asked.

"Rosaline," Chris muttered. The group looked at him for a moment, and then Diana asked, "Did you know her?" Chris looked up at each of their faces and said quickly, "She was sitting next to me, she didn't say much, only got her name."

"Well you seem damned attached to her kid," Greg slandered.

"Hey now," David implored, "Let's not get nasty here."

"Sorry," Greg looked down to his feet, "I-I'll just head on back to my fire." And with that he left, leaving the group somewhat empty. Sam got a little closer and whispered, "And who, might I ask, was that?"

"His name's Greg," a young man stated, "Met him last night. Poor bloke was roasting his garments over his fire."

"Hey," Chris interrupted, "not to be intrusive on your lively storytelling, but where the hell did Rosaline go?" The group fell silent and Sam looked off to somewhere by the medical area. He then saw something shimmering in the sand a little ways away from the camp. He turned away from the group and began to walk towards it, causing Elijah to state abruptly, "Where the bloody 'ell is he going?" The group followed him past the edge of the camp and to a spot where the sand lay disrupted. In the middle of this disruption shined a small, circular object half-covered by the white grains. Sam reached a hand down to the object and pulled out a tiny, black compass. The compass spun for a moment, and then pointed to where North was supposedly located.

"Is that," Diana spoke, "A compass?"

"Yeah," Sam said looking upwards, "And by the looks of it, Rosaline came through here not too long ago." In front of where the group stood was a long trail of footprints, leading so far down the beach that they disappeared from plain sight. Sam stood tall. He knew that something had to be done; they couldn't just ignore the tracks. And to answer this, Chris stepped forward and turned to the group.

"I'm going to follow the tracks," he stated, "Anyone who wants to go with me can. But we need to go now before the rain gets here."

"Rain?" Elijah turned and looked out towards the ocean to see fast approaching storm clouds heading their way, "Oh, _that _rain."

"I'll go," Diana raised her hand.

"I'll go too," David added, but Diana retorted, "No, you need to stay and help the injured."

"But-."

"You are the only doctor on this island, aren't you?" Diana smiled and walked over to Chris.

"Alright," he said, "Anyone else?"

"I'll go," Sam said and walked forward, "I'm always up for a good adventure."

"Count me in," Elijah's smile was big and ready, "Beats staying here and worrying about nothing."

"Right, that should be good," Chris ended. The other survivors turned back around and headed off to their individual fires, and David stood there staring at the group leaving.

"Don't worry," Diana called back to him, "I'll be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail."

"I'll count you on that!" he laughed and waved. His smile faded to a half frown as he turned away as well. _That's what I get for going to college. _

***

They walked for nearly twenty minutes before coming to a stop. On the way, Elijah had entertained the group with lively jokes, always ending with a valuable lesson of some sort.

"And that's why you never go drinking in Amsterdam." He ended one of his rants as they came to a stop. The tracks had come to an end right before a large drop off into the sea below. The level of the beach had gradually increased as they made their way down it, and now a cliff ended it with a sheer drop down into a sea of rocks and waves. Chris went to the edge of this cliff and stared down into its bowls. He muttered something under his breath and looked back to the group for help.

"She must've climbed down," Sam searched for an answer, "Or something."

"Then we'll just have to climb down as well," Chris said, and turned to find a way down.

"Hold up, mate," Elijah spoke fast, "Why are you risking you're neck for a girl you met on a plane?"

"Because," Chris's tone was harsh, "she's just like anyone other one of us, and as equally important. Now are you going to help me or not?"

"Chris," Diana tried, "Let's talk about this before we do something stupid."

"Do something-, if you're not going to help me then I'll find her myself!"

"Chris," Sam said, looking off to the side.

"What?!" Sam pointed to an out-of-place laying a few feet from the tree line. The branch had several leaves on it, and each had been coated with sand. Around the branch were swipes in the sand, as if someone had-

"Covered up her tracks," Diana whispered.

"Why would she cover up her tracks?" Chris asked anyone.

"Maybe she didn't want us to find her," Elijah answered. Chris ignored this and began to tramp towards the jungle.

"Whoa now," Elijah said rushing forward, "You sure you want to do that?"

"Like I said, I'm going to find her; you can stay here if the jungle scares you." Just as he finished his sentence, a clap of thunder and the sky broke. Rain poured onto them as if someone had upturned a bucket. Chris stared up at the sky, and Elijah raised his arms upwards, as if to embrace it. Sam threw a hand over his eyes to block the water. Diana did the same and yelled to him over the roaring, "It's raining too hard, we need to head back!"

"Right," Elijah agreed and began walking away, "Sounds like a plan to me!" Diana followed and Sam yelled to Chris, "Come on Chris, we'll look for her as soon as the rain clears!" Chris stood there for a moment, staring into the dark recesses of the jungle. It called to him, provoking him. He shook his head slowly and fell back, muttering inaudible phrases underneath his breath. Sam followed him, and the group trekked back to the beach in the pouring rain.

***

"_It's eight-twenty, Sam."_

"_I know."_

"_Why'd we leave so early?"_

"_Better to be early than have no time at all." The rain lashed at the car window, making the road almost invisible to Sam's eyes. Eric sat in the passenger's seat next to him, opening his mouth wide to yawn the morning away. Their jeep came to a stop in front of a red light, or at least it looked like one. That jeep had traveled half way across America, from their starting point in Fayetteville, Arkansas, to here in sunny Miami. _

_Except today, it wasn't sunny. It had been raining ever since the early hours of the morning, and it hadn't stopped. _

_"Think our flight might be canceled?" Sam looked over to Eric. _

_"Nah," Eric shook his head, "This isn't too bad of weather. Go." Sam looked back to the light and pressed down on the accelerator. The jeep lurched forward and kept close to the blue Camaro in front of it. Sam noticed from the corner of his eye that Eric was staring at his phone. He opened it up to show a picture of him and an auburn-haired girl as his background. They were both smiling against a sunny backdrop; Eric sighed. _

_"When was the last time you talked to her?" Sam asked. Eric closed his phone and looked up. _

_"To who?" _

***

Kelsey rushed back over to the fire. The rain had just begun, and many survivors were already huddled together underneath the plane wreckage, the broad leaves of the jungle trees, and even a tarp held up by a couple of volunteers. The tarp had been recovered from the plane wreckage by David, who was the only one who would willingly go anywhere near the bodies in the fuselage.

Kelsey had rushed off to find someone to help her transport Eric's body from their fire to the tarp cover. The only person she could find was a Hispanic man by the name of Cortez, who told his friend to go take cover underneath the plane wreckage. Upon arrival however, the two found Eric wide awake and staring up at the sky. His mouth hung open as he let the cool rain water pour down his throat. Once he caught sight of Kelsey, he halted this odd behavior and rose to his feet.

"Eric!" she cried and ran to embrace her friend.

"How long…was I out?" he asked slowly.

"What? Sorry I can't hear you over the-."

"Excuse me, Miss?" Cortez yelled to her, "We really must get under cover!" Kelsey turned her head back to face him and nodded. She grabbed Eric's arm and led him to the cover of the tarp, making sure that her friend didn't pass out on her again. She pushed her way into the large crowd gathered there, and looked back to find Cortez gone. _Probably went to go be with his friend. _She then turned to Eric and asked, "Now what did you say?"

"Where's Sam?" Eric looked around.

"He went out to go look for a survivor, are you hurting anywhere?"

"No, I don't think so," he looked down at his body and then back up to meet Kelsey's eyes.

"Where are we, Kelsey?"

"I don't know, I don't know…" They stood there in silence for a moment. All that was heard was the continuous pounding of the rain against the tarp, the jungle, everywhere around them. Kelsey then remembered something and looked back over to Eric.

"Eric," she asked, "What were you doing in the jungle?"

"Look!" Eric said pointing out to the beach. Kelsey spun around to see the slender dark form of Sam running towards them, behind him Chris followed. Once under the cover of the tarp, Sam recognized the sharp face of Eric and his eyes widened.

"Dude!" Sam exclaimed and embraced his friend. Eric patted him on the back, "Glad to see you again."

"You were out for so long, you just wake up?"

"Yeah, rain must've woke me up." Sam smiled and laughed. And there they waited, that small group underneath the tarp, drips of water dropped from every body.

A little ways away from the tarp, Diana rejoined David, who was still gathering up items from the medical kit.

"Come on!" she yelled over the rain, "I think there's some room underneath the tarp!"

"Hey," he looked up to his friend, "Did you find her?"

"No, we think she ran into the jungle!"

"Why on Earth would she do that?"

"Don't know, but once this rain clears we're going to go look for her."

"Alright, can I go on this excursion?"

"Ha," Diana laughed, "We'll see." David closed the medical kit and the two ran towards the cover of the tarp.

***

"Damn blasted rain," Greg looked up to the sky. He crouched close to the ground underneath a piece of metal jammed into the beach. He held, clutched in his hands, his suitcase which he asked David so kindly to retrieve from the plane.

_"Hey, might as well get my stuff too, and maybe a nice beer while you're at it." _

Greg grumbled under his breath. He looked down at his suitcase, hoping to God that nothing in it got wet or ruined. He then looked up at the sky and laughed.

"Yeah," he muttered, "Probably last hours, maybe even a God damned day-." The rain stopped. Greg was still staring up at the sky when this miracle commenced. The clouds were nearly gone, and the sun came shining brightly from the sky, as if to say, "Hey, it was all just a joke!"

Greg smiled.

***

Sam, Kelsey and Eric emerged from beneath the dry underbelly of the tarp and stared up at the sun. The sky had a clean plate, not a cloud dared ruin its blue beauty. Others from underneath the tarp, in the jungle, and underneath the wreckage began to emerge as well and some returned to their fires, now smoldering from the rain. David walked up to Kelsey and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Hey," he asked, "Want to go look now?"

"Sure," Kelsey said and looked over to Sam and Eric. "David and I are going to look for food in the fuselage; you guys want to come too?"

"Yeah, sure," Eric said, "Maybe I can find my luggage somewhere in there."

"Alright, sounds good," David said looking away to see Diana at their camp, "Hey, you guys go on ahead, I'll catch up."

"Okay," Kelsey said and the three began to walk towards the wreckage. David walked in the opposite direction towards Diana, who seemed to be struggling with her suitcase. He reached her, and asked, "Need some help?"

"No, it's just…" she frowned and held a hand out towards her suitcase, sopping wet. She had laid most of its contents out to dry, but there were still some articles left in the case.

"Well, I guess all you can do is hope that your stuff will dry."

"Are you kidding me?"

"What?"

"Look," she held up a night gown now soaking wet, "My husband gave this to me…"

"Your…husband?" David's mind skipped a beat. Diana laughed and looked up at him.

"Don't worry, we broke up ages ago."

"Oh, I see." David's face turned bright red. Diana laughed and laid the gown out beside her other clothing.

A little ways away, Samantha and Clark finally returned to their fire with their suitcases. Earlier that morning, they had retrieved them from the plane prior to the rain. They threw the luggage down on the sand, and Clark shook the water from his hair. They had taken refuge underneath the broad leaves of one of the palms, but discovered quickly that that wasn't enough to keep them dry and happy. Samantha squeezed some of the rain from her yellow dress, and said jokingly, "Well, I guess that could count as my shower for today."

"I wonder how that Murphy guy's doing," Clark looked around to try and find the face of Tim Murphy.

"Why are you so worried about this guy?" she asked him.

"Do you realize how wealthy this kid is? After Hammond bit the dust, Murphy inherited almost half of his earnings _and _took his place as Ruler of the Tycoons."

"So this guy, Murphy," Samantha suddenly got an odd look on her face, "He's worth something right?"

"Right," Clark got the same look. They shared this look for a moment and then went back to whatever they were doing beforehand.

"I believe we should become well acquainted with Mr. Murphy," Clark spoke.

"As do I," Samantha agreed.

***

"Good Christ this place smells," Sam placed a hand over his nostrils. The inside of the fuselage burned with the stench of the dead. Death hung in the air, as if they were stepping into a tomb. Basically, this _was _a tomb. Eric led the way, looking in every seat with Kelsey and Sam behind him, checking the cubbies in his wake. Sam stared at the bodies scattered through the plane, their faces frozen in time, some eyes stared into the recesses of nothingness. Sam couldn't help but close these eyes, placing one hand to their cold faces and sweeping downward. Finally they reached the end of the aisle, having collected only a small amount of edible material along the way. Then, Eric kicked open the door leading into the storage room and low and behold, there was the mother lode. Food ranging from sandwiches to in-flight cookies neatly wrapped in aluminum packages filled the shelves, and drinks from Coke to red wine stacked tall next to that. Their faces lit up at the sight of this, and Kelsey stated, "We need to use this as sparingly as possible." But just as she said this, Eric reached for a sandwich, unwrapped its aluminum wrapping, and dug in.

"Eric!" Kelsey said slapping him on the shoulder. Eric laughed through the wad of food shoved in his mouth, a piece of lettuce dropped to the floor. Once Eric was finished, the threesome filled their arms with as much food as they could, and left the storage room.

Outside, people were beginning to gather in little groups, complaining about not having any food. Greg said a few unsettling statements, and Elijah scolded him for it, stating that women were present. Away from these groups sat Timothy Murphy, alone with his arms wrapped around his legs. The twenty-five year old brave man he had ambitioned to grow up to left him, and now the scared nine-year old boy came out to replace the brave face. He didn't do well in these types of situations, at least not at first. Ever since the accident on Isla Nublar, he seemed quieter, more focused when the situation turned to the worse. And right now he was focused on a long stream of storm clouds that lined the horizon. He had noticed them this morning, and thought that they were just part of the rain they had just had. But there they were, just as before. Never moving, frozen against the blue sky above.

He also focused on whether or not anyone was out to find them. Of course, he thought, they would notice his absence and send rescue out as soon as possible. But that should have happened hours ago, when their plane went down and off the radar. They were taking too long, longer than Tim expected.

A couple of cheers burst from the groups behind him, and then the whole crowd ignited with chatter as three survivors arrived with food in their arms. Tim stood up, brushed the sand from his slacks and made his way over to their saviors. One of them gave a long speech about how they should ration the food amongst themselves, but Tim didn't pay much attention. All he knew was that they had food, and he wanted one of those sandwiches.

"And there's more in the fuselage," Sam added, "But to keep anyone from stealing it, the storage room will be locked at all times." This disrupted the audience.

"What?!"

"Why the hell did you do that?"

"Who puts you in charge?"

"And who will be holding the key?"

"I will," Kelsey spoke, "I'll be in holder of the key." The audience hushed. They knew that the key was safe with her, but they didn't want to admit it. Sam closed the meeting with a couple assuring words, and the crowd dispersed, splitting off into their separate groups. Sam looked over to Kelsey and handed her the key.

"Promise not to eat too much?" Sam joked.

"Oh yeah," Kelsey laughed, "I'll try to resist temptations."

***

"_My boy, has anyone seen my boy?" the woman asked anyone. The airport was vast, people came and went all around her, but no one seemed to bother. That's when Sam and Eric entered the lobby, and looked up at the gate reading: Gate D8, Puerto Rican Connections Flight 513. They began to walk towards this large gate, but stopped upon hearing this woman's cries. Sam looked at Eric, and Eric shrugged. Then they both walked up to the woman, who was about to break down in tears, and Sam asked, "Hey, do you need help?"_

_"Yes!" the woman spun around to meet them, "My son, he's missing. P-please can you help me find him?" Eric looked at his watch. Thirty minutes before take-off. Then he looked at Sam and saw him smiling. _

_"Good thing we left early." _

***

Sam returned finally to his fire and sat down. Eric had left to go help with passing out food to people with Kelsey, leaving him alone at his camp. The sun was directly above his head, and for the first time in a long while he looked at the face of his watch. _1:32_. On this island, time seemed to move slower to him. He supposed that it was due to the lack of things to do, or the absence of electricity from their lives. Everything was slower here.

He had, in his hands, his suitcase which he got from the cubby above his seat just as they were exiting the plane. He opened the case to find several articles of clothing, some running shoes, and his cell phone set neatly on top of a pair of jeans. He sighed, took the phone from the jeans and opened it up. He found what he already knew, no signal. Just the background of a girl stared back at him. The girl had blonde hair, with shining blue eyes the sea would be jealous of, and a smile whiter than the sun. His heart sank at the sight of this and he turned off the device. He placed the phone back in his suitcase and raised his hand to his face. He ran his dry hand through his hair and stared at the beach. The slew of thoughts rushed through his mind, just as they did the night before. He still was hanging on to the hope that rescue would be there soon, but when was soon? How much longer did they have to wait? And even when the rescue did come, what about the other half of the plane? He saw it break off, the front section. But what if those people were still alive, in the front section? And what about Rosaline, he knew that Chris was determined to find her and wouldn't give up until he did. And Cassie-."

"Sam?" the sweet voice broke his strain of thought.

"Yes?" he answered compulsively.

"You said that we'd try and look for my son today, are you willing to?"

"Oh," Sam said, snapping out of his daze, "Yes, alright if you can find two backpacks and I'll get some water-."

"For what?" the voice was quick. Sam looked past Cassie to find Elijah standing there with that smug grin plastered on his face.

"We're forming a search party," Cassie told him, "Care to go with us?"

"Sure, I'm up for it. I've been told I tell the most wonderful of stories."

"Okay then, three backpacks. Elijah, you got any water to spare?" Elijah withdrew a full bottle from his pants pocket. He shook it enthusiastically, causing Sam to smile. Cassie went and found three backpacks, and brought them back to Sam. Sam packed them each with a bottle of water and couple of granola bars. He told Cassie and Elijah to not make a big deal about leaving, and they moved very quickly towards the green jungle. They were stopped however, by the voice of Samantha from behind them, "And where are you all off to?" Sam turned to find her and Clark standing there with hands on their hips, giving them a cocky look. Sam sighed and said, "Alright, come on."

***

_Sam sat to the right of Eric, who was fast asleep, as the plane cruised above the clouds. He had, held out in front of him, a copy of Golding's _Lord of the Flies_, one of his personal favorites. He had just gotten to the part where the "monster" landed on the island. Turned out to be a dead pilot, he thought that was ironic. The one thing they feared the most was the only connection they had to the outside world, a human being. It was just bad luck that he happened to be dead. _

_Sam adverted his gaze to somewhere outside of the cold window next to him. The sky seemed to go on forever, and, in his mind, it did. He began to feel a little light headed and, believing it to be dehydration, called for a stewardess. The attendant rushed to him and asked in the most polite of voices, "How may I help you, sir?"_

_"Yeah, do you have any rum or whiskey? I'm feeling lightheaded and sometimes a nice strong drink helps."_

_"And are you over twenty-one?" she asked with a smile._

_"I can be," Sam laughed. The stewardess laughed as well and said, "Don't worry; I've got just the thing." She was about to leave when another stewardess signaled her to come to the front. She began to, and turned back to tell Sam, "It'll be just a moment, sir." Sam smiled and nodded his approval. The stewardess walked to the front and disappeared behind a curtain. Sam followed her until she went out of view, and noticed something towards the front of the plane. A girl with long blonde hair was looking up towards where the stewardess had disappeared into, and then looked back down to her magazine. Sam's heart skipped a beat, and was about to jump right out of his seat when the plane lurched forward. It balanced itself, and the yellow "Fasten Your Seatbelt" light came on above his seat. _

_The next minute was the longest minute of Sam's life. The plane began to rock back and forth. Sam clutched his seat with a tight grip, although he knew it was just some turbulence. Then all hell broke loose as the plane shook as if it an earthquake had hit. Several passengers were thrown from their seats, and a man came bursting forth from within the bathroom. Sam closed his eyes and began to pray. He mumbled a few words underneath his breath, and the plane dipped downwards, sending luggage flying from the confounds of the cubbies. Sam opened his eyes for a moment to see the screaming passengers, the flying suitcases striking them, hair rising into the air, Eric still sound asleep, and, after what seemed like an eternity, the whole front section of the plane broke off into nothing. Sam felt the shock of metal ripping from metal, and then a sudden jolt as something broke off behind him. He turned and saw that it was gone. The tail section was gone. _

_Screaming._

_That awful screaming. _

_And then. _

_Silence. _


	4. Chapter III: Don't Panic

**Chapter Three: Don't Panic**

"_You never help out with anything!"_

"_Don't tell me that I can't take care of my son!"_

"_You don't deserve to call him your son!"_

"_He's my son, he has my last name!"_

"_Mom?"_

"_You spend more time working for that stupid corporation then with your own son!"_

"_Mom, wake up…"_

"_My work is the only thing keeping this family from falling apart!"_

"_No, he's the only thing keeping this family-."_

"_Mom wake up, we're gonna be late!" _

***

The group trekked through the deep jungle. The tall trees cast emerald shadows across the floor, and kept the group from cooking in the mid-afternoon sun. The Earth crinkled under their feet, and occasionally a root would attempt to pull them down to it. The air sweltered with heat and the scent of flowers blowing in the light breeze. Floretes flourished amongst the vines and leaves covering the tall trees, and there was an abundance of red dragons covering the lower brush. A bird twittered from far away, a leaf fell. The group trekked on.

Cassie was sweating profusely now, frequently taking a hand to her wet brow line. She had never been too cut out for hiking, but that didn't slow her. She had one thing on her mind, and that kept her going.

Sam had informed them upon their entrance into the jungle that he had seen where the front section had crashed, or at least where it had fallen to. There was a mountain system in the distance, a large system that blocked out the view of whatever was beyond it. Sam recalled that he saw the front section disappear over the top of this mountain, and predicted that it had landed on the other side.

"And how do you know if it's still even intact?" Clark had questioned.

"Well all we can do is hope that it is, and it's better than going out there blindfolded."

And so they hiked, for nearly an hour. And after an hour they had made it nearly half way to the towering mountain, giving them hope that they'd be there sooner than they thought.

The group came upon a small stream that ran from the west to the east, according to the compass. The sun broke through the canopy here, lighting up the stream with a warm yellow glow.

"We'll rest here," Sam said and hoisted his backpack off of him. He withdrew a granola bar from the confines of the bag, and tore into it. They were lucky that a group of backpackers had been traveling on the plane. It was a shame that every one of them had died in the crash, but Sam was thankful for the backpacks.

Cassie sat next to Sam and drank some of her water. The cool refreshment woke her body up, giving her a sudden boost of energy. Elijah went to the stream and filled his bottle back up; he had already used up all of his water about twenty minutes into the hike. Clark and Samantha observed their surroundings and Samantha pulled out a little note pad. She also withdrew a pen from her ponytail, and began to jot down notes, which were accompanied by little scribbles she called "drawings". No one talked; they just basked in the warmth around them. Elijah took some of the water he had just collected and poured the cool liquid over his messy blonde hair. He shook his head like a dog, and smiled at the sun.

"Could it get any hotter?" his teeth gritted.

"Well we are in the Gulf of Mexico," Samantha was still scribbling down notes.

"Well supposedly, we are," Clark said still observing.

"What?" Sam asked staring at him confusedly.

"Ha, nothing. I was just thinking about worm holes and shit like that," he was smiling. Sam stared at him with a blank expression, his mouth hung open a little bit.

"Just ignore him," Samantha said shaking her head, "He's got too much on his mind."

"And you've got too little," Clark said smiling. Samantha forced a fake smile towards his direction and looked back down to her work.

"How exactly, may I ask," Elijah said abruptly, "do you two know each other?"

"We met about eleven years ago, I a young lad-."

"Shut up, Clark," Samantha stopped his rambling, "We're old friends, we just wanted to visit Belize before going back to our lives."

"Belize?" Sam's attention was caught, "Eric and I were traveling there too."

"We were _all _traveling there, smart one," Clark chuckled. Sam threw him an angry glare, but Clark adverted it by turning away. There was a silence for a moment, until Elijah began to whistle the tune to _What a Wonderful World_. Sam then rose, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and ordered, "Alright, let's get going."

"Aye aye, Captain," Elijah said jokingly and the group moved on. They crossed the stream and entered a small clearing, the grass grew tall and past their knees. Sam looked up to the blue sky, still without a cloud in the sky, and had a sudden flashback to the crash. He remembered little bits and pieces of it, but one image that stood out amongst the rest was that of the blonde haired girl. He didn't really think, _No it couldn't possibly be… _

There was movement from the right corner of the clearing. Amongst the foliage dipping down, a fern moved here, a leaf dropped there. Whatever was causing the ruckus was moving just behind the tree line, and just out of the sight of the group. They stopped midway into the clearing and stared at this spot. The hair on the back of nearly everyone's necks stood straight up, and Samantha whispered, "What in the hell is that?"

"Maybe an animal," Sam whispered.

"Or maybe," Cassie stepped forward, "Something else." Sam grabbed her arm just before she could run into the unknown, and shook his head.

"Best not separate," he whispered, "We have no idea what's-." His voice stopped, and his body froze. His gaze focused on a little space between two ferns, just barely visible to the naked eye. A flash of brown, and then, green. Eyes that lit up in the sun, the eyes of a woman.

Sam reacted on impulse, his body urging him to pursue. It took the group about two seconds to realize he had left, and once they did Cassie yelled out, "Sam!"

Sam kept running.

"Sam!"

He broke the tree line.

"SAM!"

***

"_Are we there yet?" the voice of ten year old Robert Power sounded from the backseat of the vehicle. He clutched in his hands a pamphlet advertising a local show, which he had grabbed on the way out of their hotel. Cassandra Power smiled from the front seat of the vehicle, "We're almost there sweetie."_

_"Alright," he mumbled and flipped over the pamphlet. The car stopped at a stoplight, and in the back seat Robert looked out the rain covered window. He saw, to the left of them, a blue Camaro with a beautiful woman driving. Robert waved to the woman, but the woman didn't seem to notice him. _

_"Don't wave to strangers, sweetie," Cassie was still plastering that fake smile across her face. She knew that now was not the time to be carefree. Now wasn't the time to be smiling for your son. But, sadly, that's the only thing she could do. He had to believe that everything was alright, and that they'd be back to their normal lives in no time. He had to believe that his father hadn't returned six years after he left them just to tell her that she needed to go to Belize. That they'd be "safe" in Belize. _

_"Safe from what, Arnold?"_

_"Safe from me, and safe from the people I work for."_

_"Oh so now you're working with the mafia?"_

_"Listen Cassandra, this is serious. If you don't go to Belize, you and Robert might be in danger."_

_"What do you mean, danger? Arnold what have you done?"_

_"Please just listen to me; the last thing I'd want is for you two to get hurt. Now I'm begging you get to Miami International and get on Flight 513, here's your tickets. You'll be safe once you've reached Belize. Please, Cassandra, do it for me. Do it for our son." _

_The rain smacked against the windshield. _

***

Eric and Kelsey returned to their camp with smiles on their faces, and one sandwich each. They had earned them, with all the work they put into handing out food and water. Luckily they had help from, of all people, Greg.

"Probably wanted to make himself look not as much like a totally ass," Eric said laughing.

"Eric!" Kelsey laughed and punched the boy in his arm. The laughing stopped once they both noticed that the camp was missing something.

"Where's Sam?" Eric asked, looking around.

"This was the last place I saw him," Kelsey looked as well. They made a complete three-sixty scope of the beachside camp, but no Sam was found. Suddenly something caught Eric's eye and he bent down to examine it. He smiled and chuckled a bit, causing Kelsey to ask, "What is it?"

"Read it for yourself," Eric said standing up. Kelsey came next to him and bent down. And there, made out from twigs and rocks, was a tiny note stating: "Gone on an adventure, don't panic. –Sam"

***

Limbs smacked against nearly every part of his body. Several left small lacerations on his face, and one tore a gash in his shirt. His hands were work down and bleeding from pushing all the foliage out of his path, and his shoes were covered in a fine layer of mud. Yet he kept running, still chasing that invisible path that, he thought, would somehow lead him to Rosaline. He thought that a lot of questions would be answered once he found her, especially why she had left the camp in the first place. And maybe, just maybe, if he could convince her to come back with him, Chris would leave him alone about this whole ordeal.

A large barbed root caught his leg and brought him down like a sack of rocks, tearing at his jeans and sending several thorns into his shin. He grunted, which turned into a moan, and then a scream as he attempted to move his leg. It wasn't broken, far from it, but the thorns had him pinned to the Earth. Every inch he attempted to move away, that's another inch the thorns dug deeper. Blood seeped through the holes filled with thorns, and ran trickling down his mangled leg. He began to panic, which he knew wasn't the best thing to do. Trying to calm himself down, he let his eyes wonder away from the pain and examine his surroundings. He was in another clearing, except this one had a large cliff face running through the middle of it. Vines covered most of the face, and several large boulders lay in front of it. Many flowers bloomed here, more than he had seen in any other part of the jungle. Bright flowers of red, orange, magenta, blue. It was as if someone had come all the way out here just to paint a mosaic for Nature herself. The trees grew overhead, their branches intertwined in ways that left holes in the canopy, allowing little rays of light to bleed through to the ground. The wind picked up a bit and rustled the tree tops, causing the light beams to move like spotlights across a stage. One of these beams hit something near Sam, outlining its black silhouette. The dark body moved closer to Sam, but cautiously. Sam struggled a bit upon seeing this body, but relaxed once he could make out the tan face of Rosaline. She had no expression, just those staring green eyes. They looked from Sam's face, to his torso, and finally to his trapped leg. She got close enough to him for Sam to whisper, "Please, help me please." She took a step back, as if his words had frightened her, but came back down to his side. She laid two hands upon his leg and worked the thorny root off of it.

Sam winced in pain as the pressure eased and the pain swelled back into his leg. He began to struggle a bit, but Rosaline held him down.

"No," she said shaking her head, "That's not going to make it stop." Sam's eyes were as those of an injured fawn, unknowing and scared shitless. Her voice had no emotion, just one monotone noise. This struck Sam hard in the gut, and he froze immediately. She reached back down towards his leg and said calmly, "Now this is the most important part, don't panic." She plucked the first thorn from his leg. He gritted his teeth, tensed, and then relaxed. Blood made its way to the open wound, came gushing out and was wiped away by a piece of cloth Rosaline had torn from her own outfit. And after about six more plucks, all the thorns were removed. She made one last swipe of her soaked cloth and tossed the now blood red piece away. She then told Sam to tear off a long piece of his own clothing. He did so, and handed the cloth over to her. She then tried her best to wrap the cloth around every hole in his leg, and managed to cover most of them.

"Now stand up," she commanded.

"I don't think I-."

"No, don't think, do," she grabbed him by the shoulder and hoisted him up to his feet. He let out a groan accompanied by a slew of curses, but managed to balance himself out on the injured leg.

"Why'd you leave?" he huffed after the pain subsided, "Why the hell did you leave?"

"Because I had to," she said walking him forward. He winced in pain at each step, but finally got used to the pain.

"That's not good enough," he grunted as she sat him down on one of the boulders, "Why did you leave? How've you been able to survive out here? Where have you-."

"Shh," she put a finger to her lips, "I'll tell you everything you need to know soon, but right now you have to rest. Let the wounds heal over, then go look for the rest of the survivors."

"You mean Cassie's son?" Rosaline didn't answer, but looked up towards the tree line. She seemed to be staring into the heart of the jungle, her eyes squinted, her face focused. Then Sam could hear the movement, the rustle of branches, and the bearing of feet.

"Listen to me," Rosaline looked Sam straight in the face, "You can't let people worry. Give them hope, and here." She withdrew something from behind her and handed it to Sam. Sam held it in his hand, the wooden handle felt cold in his hand, the sheer edge of the survival knife glistening in the sun.

"Why do I need this?" Sam asked still examining the blade.

"I'm sorry," Rosaline said and placed a hand on his shoulder, "But you'll find out soon enough." Sam looked up into her emerald eyes and saw a sense of worry. She began to open her mouth to say something else, but the rustling grew louder. Sam's head spun in the direction of the commotion, and he asked, "What's that?" When no answer was heard, he looked back to where Rosaline had been and found nothing. She had fled the scene, leaving him with more questions than answers.

The rustling was closer now. Almost to the tree line. Sam tensed his grip around the survival knife and attempted to stand on his leg. The pain, however, caused him to sit back down. He smashed his teeth together and scowled his eyes. He readied the knife in front of him, holding the blade outwards towards the unknown entity. The foliage began to shake and…

Out ran Clark. He stumbled a bit and regained his balance, puffing and huffing great breaths of air out of his mouth. He too had many cuts and tears on his body, but not as nearly as bad as Sam did. He placed his hands on his legs and bent over.

"What the fuck, man…" he huffed, "Why the fuck did you go?"

Sam was speechless. He still had the survival knife held outwards, pointing directly at Clark's body. Clark looked up to find Sam still in this stance, and asked, "Where'd you get that?"

***

Elijah, Cassie and Samantha had made a camp right in the middle of the clearing. After Clark had run off after Sam, they had decided that this would be the best time for them to rest. They still had a long hike ahead of them, and it was already nearing the evening.

That was two hours ago. Now the sun had nearly dipped all the way behind the tree line, blanketing the clearing with an eerie half-darkness. They had all gathered some firewood already, and now attempted to light a fire. After several attempts of rubbing two sticks together, and other failed methods, Elijah remembered that, "Oh, sodding me. I've had a lighter in my pants the whole time!" Cassie and Samantha laughed at this, and Elijah happily lit the fire with the tiny lighter. Soon they had a fire, not a roaring bonfire, but one that would keep them warm tonight.

They all sat around the fire and stared deep into its flames. If there ever was a psychiatrist on the island, it had to be the fire. Every survivor who had ever sat by one had told their deepest secrets, fears, hopes and dreams to the fire. And the fire never was optimistic; it never told them that they were crazy. It just kept burning and burning, burning their secrets, burning their fears, burning their hopes. And burning their dreams.

Samantha sighed and looked off towards the jungle. The sun was completely gone now, and darkness reigned over to island. She was about to suggest that they go look for the two lost ones when the tall image of Clark came into view. Cassie gasped and the group turned towards the man. Across his shoulder was the arm of Sam, who limped slowly next to him, his leg beginning to bleed again. Elijah grabbed a piece of burning wood and the two groups converged.

"What happened?" Cassie asked anxiously.

"I found him a little ways away from here, his legs hurt pretty bad," Clark answered. They had reached the comfort of the flames now and Sam sat his aching body down on the ground. He grunted in pain, and Cassie asked him, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Sam said rubbing his leg, "Well, actually, no. But I'm better."

"What happened," the question appeared again, this time from Elijah. And so Sam recalled the events that had taken place within the jungle, about how he got trapped, and about how he met Rosaline.

"And she just gave you the knife?" Elijah said, holding the weapon in his hand.

"Yeah, she said I'd need it," Sam warmed his hands against the heat.

"Need it for what?" Samantha asked. And then it happened. A noise, no, a roar sounded from far off across the island. A roar of all roars. The whole group, including Sam, rose to their feet and looked off in the direction that the roar had sounded. And the location was, to their discomfort, right beyond the mountain.

"What the hell was that?" Cassie whispered.

***

"_Please have you seen my boy?" Cassie asked to anyone. They had entered the airport together, gone up the escalator, which he was dreadfully fearful of, and now right before their gate he disappears. Cassie turned in a complete three-sixty several times, causing her head to spin a bit. She wondered why no one seemed to want to help her, maybe they thought she was just some crazed woman and didn't wish to go near her. _

_"My boy, has anyone seen my boy?" She caught sight of two approaching young men, but turned thinking that they would just ignore her. _

"_Hey," one of them said, "do you need help?"_

_"Yes!" she spun around to meet them, "My son, he's missing. P-please can you help me find him?" One of the boys looked at his watch and muttered something. Then the one with the brownish-blonde hair turned to her and said, "Sure we will, where should we look?"_

_"Oh thank you!" she said nearly with tears in her eyes, "If you could check the restrooms, that'd be great."_

_"Alright," the other young man said, "We'll go look for him." And they left her there. She stood in awe for a moment, and then called out, "His name's Robert!" _

***

Back on the beach, Kelsey and Eric sat tending their fire. The fires along the beach had grown larger, now that groups were beginning to form with larger numbers of people in them. David and Diana had chosen to stay with the medical care area, now there were just two laying down on the tarp. Greg had moved inward to join a larger group, but still kept to himself. Cortez and his friend still were separate from the groups, and speculation had gone around that they were actually homosexual. Eric denied this as silly and that they shouldn't judge two men by their friendship. And lastly Tim and Chris had decided to keep to their own fires, isolating themselves from the rest of the survivors.

And then there were Eric and Kelsey. They had agreed to wait for Sam to return before they had thoughts on moving inwards. They had beside them each a bottle of water, which they regularly took drinks from. And so they sat there, staring out into the dark abyss they called an ocean.

"So I've got a question," Eric broke the silence.

"Yes?" Kelsey looked over his way.

"Why'd you break up with him?"

"Who?" Kelsey looked back out at the ocean. She knew well who he meant.

"Sam," Eric said, "He was obsessed with you, literally for like a year. And you two were the best couple, I mean really. Heather and I had nothing on you two. So what happened?"

"Well…" Kelsey said, but couldn't finish. There was never really a good reason on why she broke up with him. She just wanted something new, and a year of her life had been devoted to him. She had to admit those times were good, some of the best she ever had.

"That was over two years ago," she changed the subject, "Why are you asking me this now?"

"No reason," Eric said, now looking out at the same ocean, "just wondering." So they sat there in silence once again. And as time went by, Kelsey began to remember. And when she couldn't remember anymore, she laid her head on the sand and closed her eyes.

***

The search party took turns watching the fire. After the mysterious roar, they had concluded that they weren't the only ones on the island. And that whatever had made that roar was either very large or extremely angry. So Sam took the first shift and Elijah the second. And now, as everyone slept soundly around her, Cassie took the third. She gazed deep within the red and orange, looking up occasionally to check on the others, and to observe her surroundings. Crickets chirped, and the wind began to pick up. The foliage around them rustled quietly in the breeze, mixing with the chirping to create a rhythmic nocturne. Cassie let this nocturne in, letting it grace her ears and then her head nodded in sync with the chirps. She felt a wave of calm come over her and, very slowly, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep...

***

_She waited and waited, for what seemed like an eternity. She had moved from a seat at the gate, to a bench, to just pacing around the lounge. She had sent those two boys off ten minutes ago, and still no Robert. She sighed, bit her fingers, and was about to go to the airport security when she saw three figures coming towards her. Two men, the ones she had sent off, and her Robert walking and smiling like nothing had happened. _

_"Robbie!" Cassie ran forward and embraced her child. _

_"Mom," Robert struggled, "Stop it, you're embarrassing me."_

_"Don't ever do that again, EVER. Do you understand?" _

_"I'm sorry mom," Robert said staring into her eyes. She began to tear up, smiled and hugged her son once more. _

_"Thank you," she told the two men, who stood there with proud looks upon their faces, "Thank you so much." _

_"All boarding for flight 513 to San Juana, Puerto Rico." _


	5. Chapter IV: The White Cross

**Chapter Four: The White Cross**

_The cell phones ring woke him out of a dead sleep. He had been having the best of dreams; the hotel mattress was much more comfortable than his van cushion, and a lot less cold. He would miss his old van, for the time he would be gone. Which, for him, seemed long enough. _

_ He threw his hand out towards the direction of the noise, scrapped at the dark with his fingers and finally felt the cool metallic casing. He wrapped his fingertips around the slender Razor and opened it with his thumb. _

_ "Hello?" his voice was groggy and worn. _

_ "You don't have to do this," spoke a woman across the line. _

_ "What?" he rubbed his eyes with his open hand. _

_ "You're not to blame, please just come home." _

_ "She was my mother, Carol. Our mother."_

_ "You didn't kill her, it was a mistake."_

_ "And now that I'm gone there won't be any more mistakes." _

_ "Please…"_

_ "No Carol, I have two hours before I board that plane. I'm not turning back now."_

_ "David…"_

_ "Goodbye, Carol." _

David woke to the sound of beating. He slowly opened his eyes, letting the early morning incandescence fill them. Most of everyone was asleep, and beside him Diana lay curled in a small ball. Her brown hair covered her face, and her legs were held tightly by her arms. Then the beating sound came again, causing David to turn his head around. Right in front of the tree line, Greg was beating a long pole of bamboo into the Earth. Three others had already been stuck into the ground, and several blankets lay next to his workplace. He stopped beating for a moment to check the sturdiness of the poles, and reached for one of the blankets. He through the blanket over the tops of the poles and began to tie down its corners to them. He was building a shelter.

David smiled and rose to his feet. He made his way over to the short man working, and asked, "Building yourself a home?"

"Oh," Greg dropped the rock and turned around towards David with a surprised look on his face, "Yeah, well it's just for if it rains again, you know? It's not permanent, just until we get…" Greg stood there staring at David for a moment, and then spun around on one foot to face his shelter. He picked up the stone once again and began beating the bamboo into the sand. David scratched his head in confusion, and left the scene. Greg's words stuck to the back of his brain, "Just until we get…"

"Rescued," David whispered. David walked back to the area set aside for medical need, and found just one man left on the blue tarp. The man was awake; his blue eyes gazed up at the mirrored sky. The man's leg was swollen, and wrapped in bloody cloth. No emotion graced his face, just that stare. The accepting stare.

"How're you doing?" David was next to him, kneeling to meet his face.

"I can't feel my leg anymore," the man said dreamily.

"Well let me take a look," David pulled up his dirty sleeves and began to carefully unwrap the tight cloth. He finally exposed the leg, a mess of swollen black, blue and red flesh. David stared at the leg for a moment and sighed. A cold sweat broke out all along his backside.

"What happened?" he asked, trying to avert his eyes from the man's face.

"I was thrown from the plane, and that's all I remember. I woke up with my leg in a mess. Doc?"

David didn't respond.

"Doc?"

"What?"

"Am I going to die here?" David placed a hand to his head and ran his fingers through his black hair. He looked up and out towards the ocean. That comforting blue ocean.

"We're going to have to amputate the leg," he finally said it.

"Oh," the man said and looked off to his right side, "Well that's nice."

"I'll have to find the medical kit, it has some anesthetic I'm sure. And something to cut with, like a knife..."

"Doc?"

"Yes?" David looked at the man to find his blue eyes calm and relaxed.

"Just leave me alone." David stared at the man. A dumbfounded look swept across his face.

"No, if I leave it the limb could cause you to go into a comatose and then after that I don't know if we can-."

"Doc, just leave me alone. I'm perfectly content with myself. I'm in good hands."David looked down to the sand and then to the man.

"What's your name?" he asked, his tone harsher.

"My name is Forest Granger, and you're David Hughes. What difference does that make?"

"Well, Forrest Granger," David placed a hand on Forest's shoulder, "I'm going to save you."

"With all due respect, Mr. Hughes," Forest placed a hand on David's shoulder, "You're the one who needs to be saved." David let go of Forest's shoulder. His eyes widened a little as he rose to his feet. Forest turned over on his side, facing away from the doctor, and closed his eyes. David let the slow breeze cool off his face before turning away from the poor man. Greg hit the bamboo once more.

"We have to go back." Samantha stood over Sam, who was sitting on the soft grass. His leg was laid out in front of him, the other faced inwards, the foot tucked underneath the other leg. Where the thorns had dug in the day before now festered a black, red, and blue wound, clearly infected.

"You mean to tell me," Clark mumbled, "that no one thought to grab the med kit?"

"Can you move it any?" Cassie asked bending down to examine the swollen leg. Sam shook the limb bit by bit. One of the scabs popped, causing a little stream of blood to drip down the leg. Elijah put a hand to his mouth and coughed. He turned away from the scene and asked politely, "Could you possibly cover that thing up, mate?"

"Yeah why don't you come over here and help me with that, mate?" Sam gritted through his teeth.

"I would, but…" Elijah glanced over to their water supplies to see that they were running low, a perfect excuse. "I've got to tend to something, I'm guessing we might need water?"

"Fine," Cassie said, looking back, "go get some, but hurry back. We're going to have to go back to the beach."

"Wait just a minute now!" Clark stared at Cassie, "We came this far, why do all of us need to go back? Weren't you the one who organized this whole operation?"

"I know," Cassie's tone didn't change, "and as much as I want to find my son, we can't let this go unattended to. So," she stood to face Clark, "you and I will go to the plane."

"And Elijah and I'll take Sam back?" Samantha asked uneasily.

"Yes," Cassie said looking off towards the mountain, "that'll work for the best."

"Wait," Sam said suddenly and began to get up, "I think I can make it…"

"Sam, please," Cassie asked, moving towards him to place an arm under his own, "Go back to the beach."

"I said I was going to find your son," Sam limped forward a bit, "And that's what I'm going to do."

"Listen Mr. Hero," Clark said, "You've helped enough. Now hand over that knife and we can part our ways."

"Why do you need the knife?" Sam asked irritably.

"Did you not hear that roar last night? Whatever made that noise was, and is _big_."

"He's right," Cassie said, handing Sam off to Samantha, "We need protection. The roar came from that direction, so it'd be best if we were armed."

"Fine," Sam huffed and pointed over to the survival knife, its blade resting in the Earth, "take it with you."

"Listen Sam," Cassie said, making her way to the knife, "I know you want to go, but I don't want anything else to happen to you. I'm the one who asked you to help me, now help me and go back to the beach." She pulled the dirty blade from out of the ground. She wiped it off on her shirt and motioned to Clark, "You got a full bottle?"

Clark withdrew a bottle of water from his pants pocket and shook it.

"Good," Cassie said, "Let's go."

"What about you?" Clark asked.

"We can share, don't worry, I don't have cooties."

"Great, a joker," Clark huffed and the two left, making their way towards the jungle.

"Good luck!" Samantha called after them. Clark returned her call with a wink and, "You too!" And with that, Clark and Cassie disappeared into the darkness of the jungle.

"You think they'll be alright?" Samantha asked fake-worryingly.

"I don't know, what do you think?" Sam said quietly.

"I think Clark'll protect her."

"So how do you two _really _know each other?"

"Clark's my cousin, but don't tell anyone."

"Why would you not want me to?"

"Because it makes me look like an idiot."

"Oh, gotcha. Samantha?"

"Yeah?"

"You can put me down."

"Oh," she snapped out of her stare, "Okay. Sorry. My bad."

Elijah finally reached was just now filling the last of the water bottles. He took a careful time filling up the others, spilling one on "accident" to by time. He looked behind him after for a moment, believing to have heard a sound, but a bird twitter brought him back to reality. He withdrew the now full water bottle from the cool stream and capped it. He wiped the bottle off and placed it along with the others. He then looked around cautiously and withdrew a small package from with his jeans pocket. He took from this package a slender cigarette, placed it between his lips, and used the lighter to fire it up. He suckled on the cig like a baby with a pacifier, and puffed smoke from the corner of his mouth. And with a final glance at his watch, he came to the conclusion that they had probably wrapped his leg by now. So he tossed the still lit smoke into the stream, gathered the bottles together in his arms and wrapped them in his long shirt.

A sudden movement in the brush caused him to freeze. Facing the opposite side of the stream, that green jungle began to slowly shake. The shake was stationary for a moment, and then stopped. Elijah didn't take his hazel eyes off of that section of foliage. A cold sweat began to break out along the top of his back. Then, with another sudden commotion, the shaking had shifted to about five feet to the right of the original point.

Then came the growl. At this point Elijah was completely immobilized by fear, but this growl sent a warning shock from the bottom of his toes to the top of his scalp. He dropped the bottles down to the ground, one rolling gracefully into the stream, and spun around in place. The adrenalin blurred his vision as he kicked up one foot and stumbled hastily away from the stream. He fell only once, which gave him a quick moment to glance back, only to have a second wave of fear shoot through his body. A large black animal of some sort was bent down, sniffing, what it seemed like, the water bottles. He didn't have long to analyze the creature fully, but of what he gathered in his mind told him to get the hell out of there. So he sped up the hill leading to the clearing and broke out into the blinding sunlight.

Samantha was just finishing wrapping the cloth back around Sam's tattered leg when Elijah burst through the jungle, rushing towards her and Sam. The sudden appearance of Elijah caused her to stare dumbfounded at the stumbling fool for a moment, until she snapped out of her daze with a quick comment, "Where's the water?"

"Never-never mind the bloody-," his words stumbled along with him, "The water-the-thing by the stream."

"What thing?" Sam looked up, "Where the hell's the water?"

"Never mind the bloody water!" Elijah yelled and collapsed to his feet. He coughed in his hand and inhaled greatly, exhaled greatly.

"Elijah, calm down," Samantha tried to get an answer from him.

"I was just minding my own business, filling the bloody water, smoking on a fag, when all of the sudden I was jumped upon by a damn thing! A damned creature! So I run all the blooming way back here to find you two ninnies demanding _water_? I was almost killed, torn to shreds! Bloody hell," Elijah laid his back down on the green ground and placed his hands to his face. He exhaled and inhaled once more, and then several times more. Sam looked to Samantha to find her still staring blankly at Elijah.

"You were smoking a _what_?"

_The van lurched forward down the slippery highway. David looked up through his blurry windshield to see the turnoff sign for the Miami International Airport. Green sign. David came to an abrupt halt behind a large silver truck, a Ford more than likely. The jolt caused his sun visor to drop down, sending a small photograph floating down to his lap. He looked down to the old photo while the traffic was halted in front of him, and reached down to examine it closer. The photograph showed a torn and wrinkled picture of a woman, in her forties, with a child clinging to her waist. David thumbed the photo for a moment, feeling it over, remembering it. _

_Suddenly a wave of grief shot through his body like a shock wave. His eyes began to water, and reaching to wipe them David dropped a tear on the photograph. He bent his head down and hit it against the steering wheel. There he rested, sobbing, not realizing the traffic in front of him was beginning to move. He was brought to his senses by a loud honk from an agitated vehicle behind his resting van. He put his foot on the accelerator and the van lurched forward once again down the tearful highway. _

David stared at Forrest, still laying on the blue tarp, still refusing any help or care. It had been a couple of hours since he had woken up to find Forrest still at the medical tent, and George, who had been working on his shelter, now rested on a towel under the green leaf roof of the finished product. George had his eyes closed, and short, quite snores signified that he was fast asleep. The sun beat down on the beach.

David looked to his side to see the tall figure of Eric hastily approaching him, and following him was the mass of bouncing red hair of Kelsey. David began to rise as Eric came to a halt next to him and said, "Alright, we've got everything you need."

"Where is it?" David asked.

"Well everything's over by my fire," Kelsey answered, "But we have a problem about the, um, sharp object?"

"You need something to cut through the bone, right?" Eric asked.

"Yes, that would be for the best that it could," David answered.

"Well it seems someone took the survival knife from the fusel lodge," Eric turned to face the stagnant wreckage, "And nothing seems to be sharp enough to cut through-."

"We could use the rocks George was using earlier," David said abruptly, "And we could break some metal off of the wreckage."

"Why would we need a rock?" Kelsey asked. David looked to her and then over to where Forrest laid. He sighed and turned back to Kelsey, "We're going to have to break the leg."

"What?" Eric was taken aback.

"If we break the leg at the conjoining point between the tibia and the patella, we can create an easy path to sever the lower leg. If we don't, that man is going to die." Eric and Kelsey fell silent. They stood there for a moment looking to each other for something to say, and finally Eric spoke, "He'll be on anesthetic, right?"

"Of course, there's some in the medical kit."

"What will you do once the leg is…severed?" Kelsey asked, gulping.

"I'll have to burn the opening with something like a frying pan, something that'll cover the entire area. That'll heal the wound over."

"Christ…" Eric whispered.

"That sounds…awful," Kelsey muttered.

"I know it does, but it's the only way."

"What has he said about it?" Eric asked, pointing to Forrest. David looked over to Forrest and said quietly, "Well, I still need to convince him to go along with it."

"You mean he hasn't given you his consent?"

"His consent doesn't matter," David's tone rose, "I'm not going to let him die on me. It's either I convince him myself, or…" David sighed and shook his head. He began walking towards Kelsey's fire, where the supplies were laid on a fresh towel.

"Thank you," he told the two of them, "For the help. I think I can take it from here."

"Oh no," Eric said following him, "You're going to need all the help you can get."

"So what you're telling me is," Sam had his fingers running through his ragged hair, "that "something" jumped at you, causing you to drop all of the water?"

"Exactly!" Elijah pointed a finger and Sam, his expression wild.

"And what was it," Samantha added sarcastically, "Some sort of deer?"

"Very funny," Elijah sounded annoyed.

"Well all I know is, if it wanted to kill you, it probably would have," Sam said with a smile, "Way you were stumbling around, I'm surprised you got away so fast."

"Alright," Elijah said completely irritated, "You think it's not that bad? Let's go, aye? Let's go right now and we'll see what it is." Samantha looked to Sam and Sam to Samantha. They shrugged and Samantha said, "Alright then, let's go." She put an arm under Sam's and hoisted him up. Elijah sighed and shook his head as the two passed him, and groaned, "Hold up, let me help ye' out, there we go." He placed his arm under Sam's other arm and helped him along.

They entered the jungle, and immediately Elijah's eyes darted from left to right. His hand tensed up on Sam's opposite shoulder, and Samantha felt the tension as well.

"You okay?" Sam and Samantha said in unison. Elijah jumped a little, recovered himself, and said nervously, "Yeah, just don't want nothing jumping out at us."

"Is that the water?" Sam said pointing with one of his fingers. The stream was now visible, and lying next to the stream were three water bottles tossed carelessly in a pile.

"Yeah," Elijah answered, "Well three of them anyways."

"What happened to the fourth?"

"Beats me," Elijah's eyes darted once again, "That thing probably snagged it."

"Right, sure," Samantha rolled her eyes. The trio reached the bottles, and Elijah, letting go of Sam, quietly packed them in his backpack. Sam asked for one of the bottles and Elijah handed him one, but just as Sam reached for the bottle…

_Snap. _All three heads turned at once to the right of the stream. Something had disturbed the brush, causing a small bird to come flying and screeching out towards the canopy. The group stood frozen in place, eyes fixated on the point of disturbance, waiting for a sudden calamity to strike. But instead, to everyone's relief, out scurried a small rodent of some sort, squeaking along the muddy bank of the stream.

"So, Elijah," Sam said chuckling, "Is that the creature?"

A screech sounded from somewhere behind them. The sound was that of a lion, only more high pitched, but just as resonant. Elijah nearly fell over from shock, dropping the water bottle on the ground. Samantha and Sam fell forward and Samantha began to run. Sam hobbled next to her for a ways, looked back to see Elijah gaining speed towards them, yelling, "I told you so, you bloody idiots! Run! RUN!" And for about thirty seconds everyone ran at the same pace, even Sam, whose leg seemed to be fully functional. Then the pain began to slowly return, and, with a sudden jerk, his leg buckled beneath him. He brought Samantha down alongside him, both landing in a dirt conglomerate. Sam huffed several times, and managed to make out the words, "Go on, go!"

"I'm not leaving you here!" Samantha yelled at him. Suddenly the screech sounded yet again, this time closer, and Sam pushed Samantha away. She looked to him as he began to rise. He said one last "go" and broke away from them. Elijah grabbed her arm and said wildly, "If the man says go, go!" He tugged her slightly and the two began to sprint in the direction of the beach, never looking back for their companion.

Sam limped to the nearest tree and grappled it with his bare hands. And with a groan, and a heave, he began to pull himself upwards using every limb except for the wounded leg. He managed to climb high enough in the tree to rest upon a hanging branch, thick enough to sustain his weight, and there he caught his breath. The adrenalin had hindered the pain in his leg for the split moment, but now the pain was more than evident. The cloth protecting the wound was now dripping with blood forced through the lacerations underneath. He tried not to look at the leg, and peered over the edge of the branch to take his mind off of the pain. He realized that he was about fifteen feet above the ground; how he had managed to climb that far, he had no clue. _I just hope Samantha and Elijah got away…_

Suddenly from what seemed like nowhere materialized a dark shape. The dark shape stood motionless under some low-level foliage, just out of Sam's sight. It began to edge closer and closer to the tree, and finally Sam noticed from the corner of his eye the intruder. Immediately Sam's body froze, goosebumps shot down every part of his skin. He saw the face of the assailant, he saw orange eyes.

He saw white fangs.

Then there was a hiss and the creature fled back into the dark recesses of the jungle. Sam felt a sudden warmth coming from his pelvic region and trickling down his leg. He looked down to find that he had soiled himself.

David approached Forrest once more, this time with a forceful look on his face. He had tried sympathizing with him, and now he had no other choice but to force it upon him. Forrest still was frozen in the same position, his back turned to David, his throbbing leg stretched out in front. His eyes were fixed upon the sandy beach beneath him, emotionless and thoughtless.

David sped to a halt beside the man, and huffed, "You're having this operation." He knew there were a million different ways to approach this situation, and probably a million better ones, but his mind hadn't thought rationally. He couldn't think anything out rationally very much anymore. But Forrest didn't answer, nor did he budge. His eyes just focused deeper on the grains of sand; the tiny grains of sand.

"Now are you going to cooperate?" David said forcefully, "Or are you going to cooperate?"

"Why," Forrest's voice was as dry as a desert, "are you so needing to help me?" And, for the first time that morning, Forrest turned to face the doctor.

"What?" David said, dazed for a moment.

"Do you believe in God?" Forrest was quick.

"I believe-." David paused and thought, "I believe in what can help."

"That's what I thought," Forrest's eyes shrugged and he rolled away from David. The blood began to rush to David's head. He needed to help this man, but how could he force someone to go against their own will?

"So are you-."

"No."

"Dammit man!" David's anger burst. Eric, who had followed him up to the wounded man, took a step back from shock. _I'd hate to have this guy for a doctor, but damn he's persistant_.

"I am not going to let you die here," David had gotten closer to Forrest's face, as if trying to stare right down into his soul,"I am _not_ going to-"

"David!" the voice called from behind him, a woman's. Both David and Eric spun around to find Diana standing with her arms crossed around her waist. She gave David a certain look and signaled for him to come to her. David sighed, picked himself up and walked towards Diana.

"I just don't know what to do!" David said with his hands thrown in the air.

"Let me talk with him," Diana said assertively. The look in her eyes told David to let her do so; she had some sort of plan. David nodded and held a hand out to let Diana through to Forrest. She walked over to the injured man, and kneeled down to talk to him face to face. Her words were inaudible to David and Eric, so Eric turned to the doctor and asked, "What do you think she's talking to him about?"

"Whatever it is," David answered, "I doubt it'll change a thing."

"_What'll you have?"_

_The bartender was a young, perky woman, red hair tied into a bun, bright blue eyes. David could tell that wasn't her natural hair color, but he didn't mind. Her smile hid the lie. _

"_Just a gin and tonic, thank you." The bartender gave him a quirky look and retreated to the rack of liquor behind her. The airport was alive with sounds. _

_The roar of jet engines._

_The chatter of passer-byes. _

_The insistent ringing of bells and intercoms. _

_David was drowning in the sound, slipping slowly out of the airport, when a voice asked, "Are you going to drink that?" David snapped up, noticing first the glass of liquor placed in front of him, and the bright blue eyes of a man perked up towards his. _

"_Oh," David grabbed his glass, "must have slipped my mind." He put the glass to his lips and took a long drink, nearly finishing off the gin, and then set the still cold glass onto the counter. He could sense the man had his full attention on him. _

_ "You know," the man had a drink in his hand as well, twirling the thin straw with his pointer, "It's odd to see a doctor with a cross." David turned his head to the man, full attention. "It'd seem that that would conflict with some patients…beliefs." The man took a sip from his drink. _

_ David looks down at his collared shirt, and then to the pearly white cross dangling from his neck. _

_ "Yeah, well, it sure as hell comforts those who do believe." _

_ "All boarding for Flight 513 to San Juana, Puerto Rico."_

"Are you ready?"

Diana had talked sense into Forrest. David didn't know how she did it, but she did. He'd accepted that the leg needed amputation, and that night, with the sun sunk below the horizon, he was brought to the shelter by Chris and the doctor. Diana brought the light to shine just above his leg, its torn and blistered flesh revealed by David. He had already talked to Chris about the condition of the appendage, but the sight of it announced that he hadn't readied for it.

"Are you going to be okay here?" David asked Chris as he slightly gagged.

"Yeah, I'm fine. What do we do first?" David looked to Diana who looked to the surgical saw lying next to the tarp. He then looked at Granger one last time and asked, "Are you ready?" Forrest looked into David's eyes. Recognition was visible.

"Where's your cross, Doc?"

David recalled earlier, when the screaming of the passengers was clear and loud, when the rush of flame lapped his face as he pulled this unconscious body from the wreckage. He recalled his frustration, his hand grasping the cross, his hands pulling free. The cross flying through the air, landing on the millions of grains of sand. Enveloping it, disappearing it.

He then took the saw and began the operation.

Late that night, Forrest's body was transported back to the medical tarp. The search party returned, but they were missing someone. Sam had not returned from the outing, stirring worry and dismay. Approaching the remaining members of the group, David assured them all that they would send out another search party in the morning for Sam. There was no word of the events that took place in the jungle, no thoughts on what this island might hold secret to them. And after all the fires had gone out, and the stragglers had gone off to bed, a much broken, much exhausted Sam stumbled into the camp collapsing next to the stiff body of Forrest Granger.


	6. Chapter V: Hunters

*Note*: I finally figured out paragraph breaks! No more confusion!

**Chapter Five: Hunters**

_The rain pattered along the outside of his motel window. There was a slight lull and then thunder. Gregory Norman shot up in his thirty-dollars-a-night bed; sweat formed at the ridge of his brow. His hand shaking, he wipes the liquid with the back and pulls his legs around, letting them flop over the edge of the bed. He gets up slowly, making his way to the window. A yawn, a scratch, and then the unavoidable tear forming in the corner of his eye. He reaches for the blinds and pulls them upward to reveal a roaring fire. There's screams. There's smoke. The heat is nearly unbearable. _

_ Greg shields his eyes and opens his mouth to yell. _

* * *

Greg's eyes shot open. The sun beat down on him as if he was under the operating table. He shielded his eyes with his forearm and let out a long yawn. Bringing his arm down, he scratched his almost protruding belly and glanced up at the precariously placed hole in his roof. Right where the sun could most easily shine through. He let out a grunt and sat up, rubbing his eyes with his sandy hands and blinking several times. Suddenly he saw a figure rush past him, and then another. Garbled voices entered his ears.

"Sa…is…ead?" Greg's body was now standing on two wobbling feet as he pushed forward towards the sunny morning beach. A woman with bright red hair brushed past him, and he called out, "What the hell's going on?"

"Sam's back!" The girl sounded worried, and then Greg could make out the face of Kelsey running towards the medical tarp. His eyes relaxed and he began to take steps towards the tarp himself. As he came closer to the blue haven, he could make out the predominant voice of that doctor, _what was his name_…David.

"Don't you die on me, you son of a bitch!"

The closer he got the more he could see. There were several people standing around the crippled body of Sam, and then there was another body near to him. This was the one David was sitting over, yelling at. He could see the motions of his arms as his hands pressed against the body's chest. The motions slowed and David began to beat on the chest of Forrest Granger. Diana was standing over him at the time; she put a hand on his shoulder.

"You did…all you could," her words seemed false. David sat back and caught his breath, rubbed his hands over his face and picked himself up. He then put his full attention on the hurt Sam.

"Your leg," he huffed, "does it hurt?"

"Like no other, but…" Sam looked past David and at the defeated body of Forrest. He noticed his leg missing, and took this as a sign not to ask any questions. "I'm just exhausted, really, I'm fine."

"This is infected," David was already prodding the festering wound on Sam's exposed leg. Sam's body seared with pain. He recoiled his leg and asked for David to stop messing with it.

"You need antibiotics, and we need to wrap that leg. Chris," David looked at his assistant standing over him, "run to my shelter and get the med-kit and some peroxide."

"Right," Chris was still woozy, but followed orders and headed towards David's hut. Kelsey and Eric were crouched down beside Sam, asking him question after question on what happened out there, and if he was going to be okay. Sam assured them that nothing was wrong, and then looked up to meet the eyes of Samantha. And then Elijah. They had just arrived to the grisly scene and already had anxiety plastered across their faces.

"Good to see you guys made it," he said, half smiling.

"Did you see it?" Elijah suddenly blurted out. The crowd around them went silent. Sam stared into his eyes, and then said the one thing he knew that wasn't true.

"No."

* * *

"Last stitch," David threaded the needle through the eye of the wound, "and we're done." Sam let out a sigh of relief, and Diana handed the doctor a roll of gauze.

"So as I was saying," Sam's breath had finally settled, "before _that _occurred, yes, I did see something. But I couldn't tell what it was; I was way too far up to make it out."

"But it was big?" Diana butted in.

"Very," the gauze was nearly wrapped around his leg, "but that doesn't help very much."

"Sure it does," a voice came from behind him. Moving towards them now was the tall, burly figure of Chad Buckley. His brown hair cut neatly to a straight-point, a golden ring dangled from his left ear lobe. If David could remember correctly, as he looked up to meet the man's eyes, he had seen him lift and carry _two _bodies away from the fire of the crash. Other than that, this man was a complete enigma to him. No background, he was somewhat of a loner, or at least observed from far away. He was either a man who had seen a lot, or was just now opening his eyes.

"A large animal, as we're sure of," he continued, "is living in that jungle. Personally, judging by the position of this island globally and the vegetation, I'd have to say it was a Sus…wild boar." This bit of information garnished some looks of interest. Chad knew that he had these people in the palm of his hand, now he needed to execute precisely.

"So," Sam retracted his leg and began moving it around, "what does that mean for us?"

"Two words," Chad held up two fingers confidently, "Fresh. Meat." There was quite a crowd growing, as Cortez and Tim approached. Greg watched carefully from a distance, not involving himself until he truly needed to. This was the tactic he used daily, a sit and wait process. _Thank God I'm so damn patient_.

"So you're suggesting a…_hunt_?" David had some trouble understanding Chad's plan.

"Exactly. I'd need a good three or four volunteers, and we'd need weapons,,,"

"No way," David shook his head as he left the group, "We need those weapons here, as scarce as they are."

"We wouldn't be gone more than three hours," Chad argued, "I honestly think the camp can go that long without them."

"Absolutely not."

"David," Diana suddenly interrupted, walking in front of David as he walked away, "let them go."

"What? Why?" he looked stunned.

"Who knows how long we're going to be out here, days, weeks, _months_. We have to accept that that's a possibility and therefore we're going to need more food."

David contemplated this for a minute, and finally gave in. "How many knives do we have, or at least that are accounted for?"

"Three including the hunting knife that Sam had on him."

"They can use it, Doc," Sam had gotten to his feet with the help of Eric and Kelsey, "Just as long as they bring it back." He remembered the words Rosaline had said as he held the knife out to Chad. He took it by the handle and assured Sam, "It will return, I promise."

"Then it's settled. Chad, you can take the other two knives, but for anyone else you're going to have to make your own weapons."

"In the long run," Chad placed a hand on David's shoulder, "You'll thank me for this." He then turned around and began the search for recruits. David stood there for a moment, reflecting on the decision he just made, and then felt an arm around his shoulder. He looked to his right to find Diana smiling at him.

"You did the right thing," she assured him.

"Yeah," he looked back to the huntsman, who had already gathered Elijah and Cortez, "let's just hope the "right thing" doesn't bite us in the ass."

* * *

"_I'm singing in the rain…"_

_ Greg's car waited patiently behind the whole city of Miami, who seemed to be all leaving via MIA that rainy morning. He drummed a little beat on his steering wheel, eyes kept forward on the backlights of the Toyota in front of him. A plane passed overhead. _

_ His phone rang, something that he hadn't heard for a good two or three days. He answered rather frantically, and pressed the ear piece to his ear. He listened for a moment as a grin eased its way across his face. He nodded to himself, and then finally answered, "Yes, that works for me. Thank you so much...for this opportunity, that is. Thank you. Alright. Goodbye." _

_ He pressed the "end call" button on the keypad and shut his phone. He sat there, in traffic, with his little cellphone clenched in his pudgy hand. He shook his hand up and down vigorously, in tune with his victory smile. His eyes glistened for a moment as thoughts and outcomes rushed through his cranium. _

_ And then, a piece of the plane above him crashed to the Earth next to his car. Then another piece. Then another. _

* * *

"I'd like to join you."

Greg had made his move. The hunting party had already begun to leave when the forty-something year old man approached Chad, their assumed leader. Compared to the tall, fortified structure of Chad, Gregory Norman seemed under-qualified. He was mid-height, overweight, slightly balding and had the smallest hands he'd ever known of. But what he was hiding was a God-given gift that would surly grant him permission to join.

"You?" Elijah chuckled, "Don't stress yourself, geezer. We've got this."

"And I'd like to use the bowie knife," Greg was asserting his persistence. Chad walked up to him, looked him straight in the eye and scoffed.

"You think you can use this?" He waved the knife in front of his face. Greg then, with almost blinding speed, snatched the weapon from Chad's grasp and flung the blade into the nearest trunk, which stuck with precise accuracy. Chad stood there in disbelief as he attempted to process what had just occurred. Jason Kidwell uttered a, "No shit," as Greg left to retrieve the knife. After pulling the blade from the hull of the tree, he brought the weapon back to its owner like a dog fetching a newspaper. He put a hand out to give the knife back, but Chad pushed his hand back to his chest.

"It's yours." And with that the group of hunters left the camp and entered the emerald jungle. The group consisted of Chad, Elijah, Cortez, Jason, and finally the surprising Greg. They walked for what seemed like an hour, Chad paving the way by noticing breaks in the foliage or scattered tracks in the mud. As they went deeper into the green, the plants surrounding them became more and more diverse and unusual. During a break, Cortez examined a group of ferns which looked out of place. He observed closer and discovered several bright-yellow pollen bulbs sticking out of the center of the fern. He backed away for a moment, staring at the plant.

"My God," he muttered, "It's a glossopteris."

"A what?" Elijah's head shot up and the group moved towards Cortez. They all expected something a bit more exciting than…

"A plant?" Jason asked.

"Not just any, but an actual, _living _glossopteris."

"What about lip-gloss?" Elijah joked, but Cortez gave him an annoyed look.

"This fern has been extinct for millions of years. This find alone is a shock to the world of paleobotany."

"I'm taking that you're a flower guy?" Chad smiled. Cortez ignored him, focusing more on his find. "No," he answered, "but I do have an interest in extinct organisms."

"What do you mean?" Jason butted in, "You saying you're one of those paleontologists?"

"Not exactly," Cortez retrieved a vile from his jeans pocket, "I did some research on the botany for Isla Nublar, the failed theme park island?" They all knew what he was referring to, their looks gave it away. "Well, anyways, the company that I worked for didn't want to go into the process of hiring some professional botanist, so they just enlisted me into the research. Why spend money when one of the workers will do it for free, right?" He chuckled as he extracted the pollen sample from the plant. "Well, I did my studying, and believe me I studied for an extensive amount of time. It's my specialty. But before they shipped me off to Nublar, the whole island went to shit and I was stuck with an abnormally large amount of new knowledge. Funny how things work out sometimes."

"Well now you get your chance, I suppose," Chad said, scratching the back of his head.

"I suppose, but this is a naturally growing specimen. Not man-made. This changes everything."

Suddenly the brush rustled. A twig snapped, and the group went silent. Greg began to reach for his knife. Elijah's breath hastened, his mind racing with the thoughts of what they saw earlier. What chased them earlier. There was a grunt and the ferns came alive as the large, dark figure of a wild boar burst through the foliage and charged at the group. The five men dodged the tusks of the boar as it plowed through them, parting them like the Red Sea. Greg regained his balance and flung his knife at the best. The blade struck the side of the boar, sticking there like a dart to a board. The boar kept to its charge and disappeared into the jungle. Chad picked himself up, and unsheathed his knife.

"Goddammit," he grunted as he walked towards where the boar had exited, "I thought you were good at this, you old shit." He then picked up his pace and sped after the wounded pig. Greg stood there, now weaponless, and sighed. He brushed himself off and wiped the sweat from his brow. Elijah came up to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," he assured him, "just ignore him. That guy's a twat anyhow."

"Let's go find him," Greg moved forward, letting Elijah's hand dangle downwards. Cortez picked up the vile from the dusty ground, brushed it off and placed it in his pocket. The group left the area and began to follow the trail left by Chad and the beast.

* * *

"_Here you are sir." _

_ The security guard handed Greg's passport back to him, and allowed him to move forward. Waiting in line for the baggage check seemed to be the most exciting part of the trip for him. Whether or not something in his bag looked like a bomb, or maybe a gun. Or, in some cases, a toothbrush mistaken as a vibrator. That's when he'd really laugh; he got a kick out of that. He placed his backpack and his suitcase on the conveyer and walked through the foreboding metal sensors. No ring, he was clear. Unfortunately for the redhead in front of him, they had to wand her down. _

_ "How embarrassing," he mumbled. Just as he was about to claim his baggage, a guard approached him. They had a flashlight ready, and his bag in hand. _

_ "Sir," the guard spoke, "I need you to come with me for a moment."_

_ Greg's eyes fluttered for a moment. In the vastness of the airport, he could have sworn he heard screaming. _

* * *

Tim Murphy placed his clothes neatly in little stacks next to his sleeping bag. He had carefully laid a tarp underneath them, so that they would stay clean and safe from the grits of sand. There was a stack for shirts, a stack for pants, and so on. Mostly business clothes; he didn't plan ahead enough to prepare for a crash landing. He had formed his little shelter by taking several loose branches and supporting them by thicker branches of downed trees. It was hastily put together to avoid any more inevitable rain showers, but above all else it had protected him thus far from any sort of harm. He smiled, taking a moment to reflect on his situation. This had to be the first time he'd smiled since…

"Hey there!"

_A fucking tourist_. Tim jolted a bit and slowly lifted his head to meet the eyes of Samantha. She had been watching him for some time now, he knew it. Catching glances from her across the camp and such. But why did she come to him now? What on Earth could she possible want?

"I saw that you were picking out clothes to wear," she said with a girlish smile smeared across her face, "Mind if I help? I have excellent taste!"

"No, I don't think you understand…"

"Oh, how silly of me, my name's Samantha, what's yours?"

"I'm Tim, but-."

"Oh! You're Tim Murphy? Well thank God we have a celebrity here! Listen, I was wondering-."

"Could you please leave me alone?" Tim's words came off a little harsher than he planned, but he was fed up with this girl. And just as he thought, his words came off badly. Her face immediately changed from sudden joy to sunken anger.

"Fine, be that way, you prick." She then turned and stormed off, leaving Tim to doddle with his clothes and collected trinkets from the crash. Tim sighed and ran his fingers through his shaggy brown hair. _What have I become? _He then looked over to the fruit collection he had begun, which consisted of a couple of mangos he had found and a banana and apple he had recovered from the fuselage. A thought traced his mind, and as much as he was annoyed by this girl, he had to realize that these people may be the only people he sees for a long time. Longer than he could know. So, in an attempt to make the best of his situation, he grabbed one of the mangos and headed towards Samantha's camp.

She had sat herself down on her tarp and was already fiddling with something when she heard him approaching. She looked up and searched herself for a pity look. _Shit, didn't think he'd come to that quickly. _In a rushed attempt, she forced a small tear out of the corner of her eye. She turned away from Tim, only to have him come around to face her head on. He extended his hand which produced the mango.

"I'm not really good with people," Tim was hasty, "But, I think this is a sign for me to get better." Samantha looked up and saw him smiling. _He's smiling?_ Suddenly a warm, distant feeling rustled around somewhere inside of her as she took the fruit and said those words.

"Thank you."

"It's okay. My name is Tim, well you know me as Tim Murphy. My father just died, I'm the heir of his multi-billion dollar corporation, and I just crash landed on a deserted island. I'm sorry if I seem stressed. Now, tell me something about yourself."

* * *

David's eyes stared out at the vast ocean. He hadn't moved from that spot all morning, ever since he patched Sam up and found Forrest dead. After this discovery, they had opted to bury Forrest near the campsite. His body was temporarily moved to the spot, where they would bury him in the morning. He watched the storm clouds lash out with whips of lightening, never moving, but always there. He felt the sand beneath his toes and his leg hair as he pulled his legs closer to his body. There was too much to think about, the crash, the death, the storm. Too much for one day. _How many more days of this? How much longer until we can leave? _

"I know what you're thinking." Diana came from behind to surprise him. She knew this was the only way she was going to be able to talk some sense into him. "You're thinking, _why me_? _Why us_?"

"Now what makes you think that?" He didn't remove his eyes from the blue ocean.

"Because that's what we're all thinking." He chuckled and looked down towards the white sand.

"Listen, if you're hoping this will change-."

"I'm not looking for change," Diana was beginning to grow impatient, "I'm just looking for answers. I'm looking so I don't wind up like you, sitting here, staring into nothing. Which is obviously not helping."

"Why do you think that?"

"Look around you David! There's so many people needing your help, needing a leader. Not someone who goes sulking in the sand."

"A leader?" David paused for a moment. All his life he had strived to be the best he could be. The best grades. The best quarterback. The best doctor. All of that, and he had to throw it away because of-.

"Yes, a leader. And a damn good one too. Who else could do that but you?" David smiled. He moved his focus from the ocean to the pleading Diana. He saw her brown eyes and felt somewhat at home. He then lifted himself from the confines of the beach, brushed himself and the feelings of regret off. The anger, the selfishness, everything that was holding him down. He brushed off, turned his back to Diana, and said, "You know, I think we're here for a reason. Just like Granger said. I might not know my reason yet," he looked at his friend with eyes of intent, "but I'm damn sure I'll find it."

* * *

Branches slapped each of the four men in the face, sometimes the same branch over and over again. They had been following the trail blazed by Chad and the boar for some time now, never losing track of it, due to the blood that seemed to be flowing from the pig. They decided to take a quick break to catch their breathes, just before the foliage seemed to thin out.

"Oh no," Greg huffed as he pressed forward slowly, "No time to rest now, gotta find-." He broke through the jungle and stepped into a large clearing. The sun shone directly above them, and the smell of death lingered in the air. The trail of blood led to the center of the clearing, and what seemed to him to be a large pit in the ground. The other three men soon followed and edged closer and closer towards the pit. Within earshot, they heard muffled grunts and feet shuffling. They finally reached the edge of the pit to find that it sloped downwards, like a crater, to a scene that looked straight out of a horror film. They had found Chad, but what the boar was far from alive. In that time Chad had not only slain the beast, but skinned it as well, which covered the bottom of the pit with blood. He now had the pig braced on top of his shoulders, carrying as if it were a log for transport, or just heavy luggage. He had blood glistening on his shirt, on his pants, on his face. He looked like the goddamned Devil.

"Hey guys!" his face lit up, "Look at what I found!"

"Chad…" Greg's voice was hushed, "What the hell is this?"

"This is a boar," Chad had already been climbing up the side of the pit, and made his way over the crest of the rim, "A skinned, ready-to-be-cooked Sus. Son of a bitch put up quite the fight." Greg ignored these claims and instead examined the pit as much as he could. It was large, and deep, but the most chilling aspect of it was the bones already littered around the bottom of it. But these bones weren't of any animal that he'd ever seen. And the tracks-.

"Listen," Chad hoisted the boar more square with his shoulders, "we need to get this sucker back to camp pronto. So let's head out gentlemen." The group, as if they were in a trance, followed one by one behind the huntsman. The last to follow was Greg, still looking over the pit. But as soon as he noticed the others making their leave, he filed in suit behind Cortez as they cleared the clearing and entered the jungle.

From across the clearing, the ferns rustled. They parted just enough so that a pair of glowing orange eyes could catch the hunters leaving. There was a snort and the eyes disappeared.

* * *

"_Fucking idiots," Greg mumbled as he readjusted his grip on the suitcase, "So help me God if I miss my flight." He was already late as it was, and this little interference didn't help. He had shown them his identification, his permits, everything they wanted to see. But they still kept him, just as his patience had trickled down to its last few drops. And then…_

_ "Excuse me, sir," who the hell was this idiot, some Jehovah's Witness? "Sorry to bother you, but have you seen a little boy around here, blonde hair, blue-."_

_ "No, I haven't. Now if you don't mind, I need to make my flight," he brushed past the man, who gave him a disgusted look, and didn't look back. His career was hanging on this flight, and he didn't want to risk that just so some pedo could find a kid. _

_ There it was, Gate 24-A, Flight 513. He had made it, and with a few minutes to spare. _

_ "All boarding for Flight 513 to San Juana, Puerto Rico." _

_ No fire. No smoke. No screaming. Just the gate and the plane. Greg finally smiled, realizing that everything was going to be okay. _

* * *

The hunters returned to the beach just as evening was about to turn. They were greeted with looks of happiness and disgust over the condition of the boar. Chad assured them that as soon as it was cooked the look would disappear from their thoughts. And so it was cooked, over a roaring fire set up in the center of the camps. Everyone, for the first time, gathered together around that boar and took their share. The organized effort impressed David, who had contemplated giving a speech for the newly united peoples, but discarded it at the last moment to focus on eating amongst new friends. Tim and Samantha conversed with Elijah and Cortez, avoiding the topic of her brother out there in the wilderness. She often glanced towards the jungle in hopes of seeing him part the foliage and step out, heroic and bold, just as he always was. But seeing nothing, she drifted back to conversation and to the freshest, juiciest pork she had ever sunk her teeth into.

Greg took his portion, which was being served by Eric and Kelsey, and headed back towards his camp. He realized that that man who stopped him in the airport was Eric, and decided to apologize to him promptly after he finished his meal. He reached his shelter, sat down on the tarp and began gorging upon the meat. Never had he been so thankful for a simple meal as this.

He heard footsteps coming towards him, and looked up to see the tall figure of Chad standing over him. He had something in his hand, and upon further investigation he made out the shiny hilt of the bowie knife.

"Hey," Chad said as he extended his hand out towards Greg, "I found this still lodged in the pig. I'm shocked that it didn't fall out, but I thought if anybody should claim it, it should be you." Greg stared at Chad for a moment, and then silently took the blade from his outstretched hand. "You've got a gift, never seen someone throw like that. We just need to work on your execution." He chuckled a bit and turned around to leave. Greg remained silent as he walked away. He glanced down at the knife in his hand, and then watched as Chad disappeared from sight. He then took out a small metal case from within his suitcase and entered in a combination for the lock. The case popped open, revealing a leather interior which was home to a butterfly knife, several documents and currency, and a fully loaded M19 pistol. He placed the bowie knife gingerly next to the pistol, closed the case and placed it inside of the suitcase. He then began to eat the meat he had earned in peace.


	7. Chapter VI: The Call

**Chapter Six: The Call **

_Tim Murphy stood in front of the window in his penthouse well above the Miami skyline. The sun had peaked over the horizon; its light flooded the room and covered his body. He basked in the warmth for a moment before turning away from the glass. How much sleep had he gotten the night before, maybe an hour at most? His head had tossed and turned the realization that his father was gone. The man that took over when his own father went, the man that rebuilt InGen and took out BioSyn. The man that had eluded Tim for the past six years, but at the same time taken specific care of his sister and himself. _

_ And now, with the sudden news of Albert Murphy's heart failure, all that pressure had been transferred to Tim's shoulders. He felt its weight. _

_ The phone rang. Tim had already prepared himself for the call, having washed up and dressed in the typical button down and slacks. He slipped his jet black Calvin Klein and reached for the phone. He picked it up, put the receiver to his ear, and answered, "I'm ready." _

_ It began to rain. _

* * *

Tim Murphy's eyes shot open. His head jerked upwards as the scream reached his ears. It was night, just after the feast provided by the hunters. Everyone had settled down when, from the corner of the site, a bloodcurdling scream cut the night in half. There was a silence that followed, and then the cry for help.

"_Someone help!_" Tim began to rise to his feet. "_Oh my God, someone help! He's gone! My husband's gone!_"

It was as if the whole camp had come alive. Everyone stirred in their own manner, some barely getting up, while others shot to their feet and began to run. Tim was one to run. He rushed over to where the cries of terror were emitting, and found a distraught woman yelling at the jungle. He was joined by others, namely David, Eric and Chad, as they arrived to the scene.

"Ma'am," David attempted to calm the woman, "What happened?"

"M-m-my husband B-b-bernard was…oh _God_, BERNARD!" She cried out several times, always towards the jungle, before Chad grabbed her and turned her around.

"What the hell happened here?" He exclaimed. The woman began to whimper, and finally answered.

"Bernard, he…something dragged him into the jungle!"

There was a silence. Up until now the survivors knew that the island was a mystery to them, but never had it crossed their mind that it might be a threat. This was a complete shock, and it was evident on the faces of the gathering crowd. David was first to act.

"Chad, go get some weapons and torches. I want torches lit up at every camp. Eric, Chris, come with me."

"Where are we going?" Eric asked, still somewhat in shock.

"We're going to find Bernard." David was blunt and quick, an alarm that needed to go off. This was real. This was happening. Now it was up to them to fix it. Chad returned with two of the knives and two torches. He handed the torches to David and Chris, and left the weapons to himself and Eric. The four men then rushed head first into the darkness of the jungle, just as lights were going up at each of the shelters. The woman had her face buried in her hands, sobbing muted words that reached the comforting ears of Diana.

"What's your name?" Diana attempted to handle the situation.

"M-m-miranda. My name is Miranda T-t-tuttle." Diana allowed Miranda to cry on her shoulder. She placed a hand on her head and quietly hushed her.

"Can you describe what happened to me?" Tim was in earshot, where he wanted to be. He had been wondering about the island ever since they landed, but with the news of some sort of creature other than the boar, and Cortez's discovery of an extinct fern, certain assumptions began to arise. He just needed conformation on his thoughts.

"It was big, like a…oh God, it looked like a giant lizard. But…but…but it had these clawes…and…and….oh _God _Bernard!" She began to sob again, into the shoulder of a now terrified Diana. She looked up to meet the face of Tim. All the color had drained from it; he stood there as if he had just seen a ghost.

* * *

"_They'll meet you at the terminal." _

"_But what if they're late?" Tim Murphy's head was leant against the cold window of the SUV. The rain was coming down in buckets now, rivers running down the other side of the glass. They were, of course, stuck in traffic. All throughout the ride, Tim had checked his watch to see how much time they were wasting. His driver began talking about something when he spaced out, listening only to the pitter-patter of rain on the vehicle. Suddenly the burst of a horn snapped him back to reality, just so that he caught the ending of his driver's lecture. _

"_They won't be," the driver assured him, "These men are trained professionals. Timing is key."_

"_I've seen plenty of trained professionals screw up. I'll believe it when I see it."_

"_In other news…Albert Murphy has passed away today, due to what seems to be a heart failure. This may or may not be directly linked to-." _

_Tim muted the radio with a grimace on his face. He had heard it too many times in one day. Tim stuck his hand into his pocket and felt the cold surface of an object. He glided his fingers carefully over a sickle-like edge, and pricked the tip with his finger. The claw felt like it had felt since he received it, never changing. Everlasting. _

* * *

The trail was clear through the jungle, as the torches from the group lit up the broken branches. David led, with the others following close behind. They hadn't been going for five minutes before Chad began to realize the direction. He asked the group to slow down for a moment and grabbed the torch from Chris. He then showered the foliage ahead of them with light. The path was already broken, but what he focused on was the dirt beneath them.

"Just as I thought," Chad brought the torch up to light the path once again, "We've been here before. Earlier today when I was chasing the boar, we found this…" He trailed off and slowly turned towards the now visible path.

"Oh Christ." He suddenly jolted forward, catching the others off guard. They recovered from his movement and hurried after him, practically running at this point. David, still with his torch, noticed blood lining some of the ferns. A cold sweat broke out on his neck as they plunged themselves deeper into the abyss.

They finally broke out of the jungle and into a moonlit clearing. There was silence, almost no sound except for the occasional cricket chirp. And through the silence, David could faintly hear the sound of struggle. The sound of a wounded animal, a sort of flopping around. Chad then began to move forward, more cautious this time. He looked down occasionally to confirm with his thoughts; blood led straight to the middle of the clearing. This was it. This was the pit.

"Guys," Chad said in a harsh whisper, "Get ready. This could be ugly."

The group finally reached the rim of the pit, and looked in. The blood from the trail grew into a river that flowed towards the center of the pit, where the mangled body of what used to be Bernard Tuttle lay. Chris had to turn away from sheer terror, holding his palm over his mouth. David stared horrified into the depths of the pit. This wasn't a simple attack; this was a mutilation. Bernard's body had been so contorted by the constant dragging against the jungle floor that his left leg was bent completely behind his back. His foot graced his face. What was left of his right arm was a mere stub; the rest of the appendage was tossed carelessly several feet away from him. As if it were abandoned.

Then a look of realization shown in David's eyes. He looked to Chad for confirmation, and he too noticed it. They were led here for an ambush, the only thing they could do now-.

"I'm going down there," Eric said suddenly, breaking over the crest of the rim.

"Eric no!" David reached out for him, but it was too late. He was already rushing towards the body. But before he could reach it, a hoot sounded from somewhere near them. It was the kind of sound that in any other situation they wouldn't have noticed, but it was enough to bring Eric to a slow halt. He felt that cold sweat he should have felt before diving headfirst into the pit. It was the feeling that he had made a terrible, terrible mistake.

Another hoot sounded, but this time it was further away.

Closer to the beach.

* * *

The survivors were just beginning to settle down when the jungle parted. Diana had finally calmed down Miranda to the point where she could actually sit down without whimpering. Torches had gone up at every campsite, and even more were being produced. Greg had one hand on his metal case and one had waving a torch around him at all times. Sam had a club fashioned out of metal lining he had recovered from the crash site. The air was filled with tension, but the nerves of the previous fifteen minutes had been cooled.

Then the branches parted and out stepped a full grown, six foot tall Velociraptor. The air of calm was eradicated. The monster let out a screech and began to hunt.

At first there was confusion, as the raptor jumped the nearest soul to it, Jackson Birch. The few people around him scattered in fear as the raptor dug into him like a lion to its prey. The creature went for the neck, severing the head in just a few powerful crunches. A brave man by the name of Patrick Daniels rushed the raptor with a torch. The raptor hissed at him, its face illuminated by the fiery torch, its reptilian skin glimmering, its fangs shining with fresh blood. It readied its talons and crouched low to the ground, an obvious pouncing position. Luckily for Patrick, he knew a thing or two about attack behaviors. He took this as a sign to run, and with all of his energy he ran directly towards the heart of camp, the raptor hot on his trail. People dodged left and right, the chaos had reached a boiling point. But just as the raptor was ready to pounce once again, Gregory Norman stepped in front of the running man and unloaded the entire clip of his M16 into the hellacious beast.

Moments before, Greg had panicked. He had a choice to make: be the hero he strived to be, or let innocent people die at his cost. _Come on, someone has to have a gun other than me. Holy shit, it's a fucking dinosaur for God's sake! _Finally he made the decision that would change the course of events for the rest of his stay on the island. He locked in the code for the case, removed the pistol and rushed towards the raptor. He noticed its path, or at least where Patrick was running, and intercepted them a ways ahead of their intended location.

"Get the fuck down!" He roared at the running man. And so Patrick ducked out of the way, leaving the raptor to charge headlong into six bullets traveling at roughly seven hundred and twenty miles per hour. The first three bullets flew past the creature, but the remaining three tore straight through its lower chest, its left leg and the last through its right eye and out the back of its cranium. The raptor nearly summersaulted forward, screeching to a halt just before Greg's feet. Blood oozed from the hole where its eye should have been. It twisted, spastically, as death rattles vibrated through its body.

Greg looked up at the survivors, who all had their eyes on him. They then turned their attentions to the now dead Velociraptor. Nobody spoke, the air was silent once again. Then, Tim Murphy turned towards the trail left by Bernard's attacker and plunged himself in the darkness of the jungle, using only the moonlight to guide his way.

* * *

The gunshots were heard at the pit. They seemed much closer than they were, but they happened. And all that David could think was that someone had a gun, and that something had gone horribly wrong.

Suddenly the hooting heard before sounds out again, and slowly transforms into a snarl. Several snarls came from the left of the three men at the rim of the pit, and a couple more from the other side. Eric's head turned in every direction as the snarls closed in. The other three men decided that the best choice would be to go down in the pit with their comrade, so they cleared the edge and rushed down the slope. Just then, the body of another raptor stepped into the clearing, and then another one, and another until five fully grown raptors made their way towards the pit. The men huddled together at the bottom of the pit, their torches casting light over the body of Bernard and the rest of the pit. They saw the eyes of the raptors as their heads cleared the rim and stared down at their cornered prey. They surrounded the pit at all sides, leaving nowhere to escape. This was the kill formation, and the men knew it. All they could do was hold their weapons outwards, hoping for a miracle.

Just as the first raptor placed its foot over the rim, another hoot sounded out. This time the pitch was off, as if it were saying something besides _close in_, or _attack_. The raptor that had stepped into the pit shook its head back and forth in confusion. It then wrenched its neck around to face the raptors behind it. It barked to them as they bobbed their heads up and down like chickens. The four men looked at each other with similar perplexed looks just as another hoot sounded from the brush.

And then one by one each of the raptors retreated. The last one to leave was the raptor already in the pit, which stomped the ground in minor fury. It then spun around, bounded over the rim and raced after its brethren as they disappeared back into the darkness. The four men held their stances. They had no doubt that this was some sort of trick, and didn't want to risk separating to make the pickings easier for their attackers.

"Are they…" Chris whispered in the lowest of whispers, "Are they gone?"

There were footsteps. They were a lot faster than the Velociraptor's, and lighter too. Chad clenched the hunting knife tightly with his grip. David prepared to throw the torch in his hand as a distraction, just as the thin body of Tim Murphy rounded the rim and peered down at the men. Eric let out a sigh of relief.

"Tim?" David said quickly.

"Are you all okay down there?"

* * *

"_Sir can I ask you to step aside for a moment?" _

_ "Sure, fine." The man in front of Tim was led away from the metal detector. He was an younger man, a janker by the looks of it, and little did Tim know, he was going to become very acquainted with Elijah Berkley. It was his turn. He placed his final artifact, his belt, into a separate tub. He passed through, all clear. He gathered his items and moved on towards his terminal. Two men were following him, both bodyguards. They followed close, too close for Tim's comfort. _

_ "Hey, I'm gonna take a quick piss," he stated suddenly, "You don't have to follow me in, do you?"_

_ "Policy states that we have to accompany you, but we'll give you the liberty and privacy. Go on." The bodyguard hid a self-righteous smile and allowed Tim to enter the bathroom alone. Tim groaned upon entry, asking himself why he had gone along with the extra security. He didn't have to really go, he just needed to get away. Just for a moment. He went to the bathroom counter and turned on one of the faucets. He splashed the cool water on his face and ran his wet fingers through his long, brown hair. The past few weeks had been rough on him, and it was visible in his face. He looked at himself as if he were looking at a completely different person. _

_ A man stopped next to him to cleanse his hands. He glanced towards Tim, and did a double-take. Tim knew what was coming next. _

_ "Aren't you…Tim Murphy?" the man asked. _

_ "Yes, I happen to be him," Tim begrudgingly answered. The man chuckled and dried off his hands. _

_ "Chris," he held a hand towards Tim. Tim thought for a minute, and then grasped it. A firm handshake. This guy wasn't a regular. _

_ "Tim, as you know." _

_ "Nice to formally meet you. Well, see you on the plane!" And the man was off. Tim stood there, staring into space for a moment. He had a distant feeling arching up his spine, but he shook it off, dried his hands and walked towards the bathroom exit. _

* * *

"So you picked that up from the original island?"

David had been questioning Tim ever since he appeared at the pit. According to Tim, he had used a replication of the raptor's distress call to lure the five attackers away from the cornered men. He also reiterated the events that had taken place on the beach; the attack, the death, and lastly Greg's act of heroism. And as they approached the beach, Tim recalled how he learned the call to the four men.

"Well I heard it there for the first time, and it stuck with me. But it was really Alan Grant's work on the vocal cortex of the Velociraptor that really aided me in learning it. He made me my own replica of the complex, so I started practicing with it to really get down the distress call. I also know "attack", "retreat", and another one we've yet to verify."

"Why in the hell would you want to learn the call for an attack?" Chad butted in.

"For shits and giggles, honestly I have too much time on my hands," Tim had a fake smile lingering on his face. In truth he had never been more scared in his life, at least not since his nightmarish trip to Jurassic Park. Seeing those creatures again, the raptors in formation, in attack mode…

They broke through the jungle and out to a scene of mass confusion. Several survivors skimmed Jackson's lifeless body like birds to water, backing away at the last moment from sheer shock. People panicked, gathering up supplies in anticipation of another attack, and even rushing to the fuselage wreckage to take cover. And in the midst of the chaos stood Greg, the barrel of his weapon still pointed at the fallen beast, as if he were examining it with the muzzle. Greg's eyes shot up when the men returned to the beach, locking with David's. David, who stood frozen in utter fear.

The other men rushed forward to try and calm the storm. Eric took off towards Kelsey and the still metal wielding Sam.

"Are you two okay?" He called out to them before arriving at their feet.

"Fuck no I'm not!" Sam blurted out, "What the f-f-fuck is-," Sam stopped mid-sentence. Eric knew that sunken look in his face, for he knew Sam hadn't stuttered like that in years. Eric then looked back to see David slowly walking towards what used to be Jackson Birch's body, and what was now mainly drained into the sand beneath it. David stopped a foot away from the massacred body, took one knee and turned his head away. He suppressed the vomit from reaching his lips, and then looked up once again straight at Greg. The gunslinger was close to him now, close enough to provide his alibi.

"I…I didn't get to it fast enough…"

"You…" David placed a hand on his face and wiped away the sweat, "You had a gun? This entire time?"

"I didn't want to cause any-."

"Get me a tarp," David was beginning to rise, "Get me a tarp _now_." Greg took one second to absorb the command and was off, rushing past a mortified Diana. She looked at the body, and then to David. They stood there, frozen in the moment, for what seemed like an eternity.

Tim finally found Samantha, hiding underneath the wreckage of the fuselage with several others. He coaxed her out, holding a hand out and assuring her it was safe. She collapsed into his arms, sobbing into his chest as she sputtered, "Oh God, he's still out there. My brother…he's s-s-still out there with those _things_."

Tim held out his hand awkwardly and then placed it on the back of her head. He felt her golden hair in his fingers, and held her closer to him as the images of Isla Nublar flooded back into his head. Every single moment of this event was him reliving one on that island. His eyes fluttered, and then he closed them, hoping that when he opened them again that this would all be a dream. A nightmare.

* * *

"_They're late."_

_ Tim had been waiting outside of the gates for a good twenty minutes. The flight personnel had just called First Class seating to the gates, which was unfortunately not where Tim was going to be seated. Due to a malfunction in the system, Tim Murphy was to be seated in Class D seating. This wasn't a shock to him, but to his ever swarming caretakers this was not a good sign. _

_ "We need to get one of them so they can trade a seat with you," one of the brutes said, looking into the vast sea of the airport. _

_ "Listen," Tim's fingers clipped his brows together in frustration, "I don't know how many times I have to tell you, I don't mind sitting back there."_

_ "Mr. Murphy it's not securely monitored back-."_

_ "Stop calling me Mr. Murphy too." Tim thrust his hand into his pocket, massaging the claw vigorously. He looked around, saw faces that he probably wouldn't ever see again. He then heard the call of the personnel, "All boarding for Flight 513 to San Juana, Puerto Rico." With this announcement Tim left the two men without them even noticing. He disappeared into the crowd of people, the people he would surely forget. He wondered if they had inflight movies back in the Class D section of the plane. He took his fingers from his pocket and recovered his ticket from his wallet. The claw felt cold against his thigh as he walked through the gates and towards the plane. _

* * *

When the confusion had lifted, and the shock had fully set in, David gathered together a group of people to dispose of Jackson's body. His mind was shot; nothing seemed real anymore. There were two dead, and from what? _Goddamned dinosaurs_. And in carrying Jackson's lifeless body to the fuselage, he realized that he had no idea where they were. These people were in the dark as much as he was. He thought back to what Diana had said, that they needed a leader. Someone to guide them through this Hell of an island. He had made up his mind.

Walking back to the camp, he passed by Chris. He looked just as shocked as he did, but he knew that he needed help with this. And so he asked him, "Chris, can you get everyone together. Just…just spread the word, okay?"

"Right Doc, just a minute, I forgot something over at the fuselage."

"Just hurry up, okay?"

"Got it." And he was off. David shook his head, cursing the young man in his head. But he had more on his mind than that. He had to somehow cease this calamity for one minute to bring together these poor people. He looked past some survivors making their way back to their camp to see Diana comforting a now grief-stricken Miranda. News had just gotten to her of her husband's death. Several other survivors stood around her giving their condolences, one being Elijah. David pulled him aside and asked for his help, which he gladly offered. He rushed off to begin the gathering, yelling for everyone to, "Meet at the bloody center of the camp, ay, it's o'er there! Yeah there! Just get over there!"

David shook his head once more and ran his hand through his ragged black hair. And through all of this shock and chaos, the one thought that popped into his mind was that he needed a haircut.

He spied from across the camp an unmoving Greg, frozen next to his camp, staring into the sand. David walked towards him; fire reflected both of their faces. Greg's eyes didn't move from those grains of sand when David finally reached him. David stared at him for a moment, shook his head and looked towards the gathering crowd of people. They were almost all together for the first time since the night of the crash.

"There's a lot of stuff going on now," David looked down at his feet, and then back up at the petrified man, "and has been since we got here." Still Greg stared, leaned against the bamboo supporters of his makeshift hut.

"Why didn't you say anything, huh?" the doctor continued, "Were you keeping it for yourself?"

"I didn't want to create panic," he finally answered.

"Well don't worry, that's already happened. And it's going to keep happening if we don't get ahold of the situation. Greg?" He looked upwards into the man's eyes, causing him to lift his face upwards.

"Greg I need you to cooperate with me, I can't do this on my own." Greg stared into David's eyes, reflecting pools of fire. Sincere and desperate. He then mustered up the strength to nod his head in compliance. David placed a hand on his shoulder, brought him around and led the broken man towards the crowd. As they approached, they passed the eyes of Cortez. Chris. Tim and Samantha. Elijah. Eric, Kelsey, and Sam. And then, standing closest to him, Diana's brown eyes came to his. He stared into them for a moment that seemed to last forever. And in the warm light of the fire, David turned to his people. To the eyes of the scared, lost, desperate eyes of the survivors. To the eyes that reflected his, drawn together and united by flame.

"We're-," he began but forgot himself. He looked past the crowd and towards the jungle, alive with new fear. New uncertainty. It came alive all in front of him, in the dark of the night. He didn't know where they'd go from here, if there was any hope, if anyone knew where they were. He didn't know if he could protect these people. He didn't know if he could protect himself.

"We're going to survive."


End file.
